You're Late
by MaddoxTheInvincible
Summary: When Craig falls into a world ruled by a king who kills for fun, he embarks on a journey with a few companions to save a friend who has been captured. But the most dangerous part won't be the deformed monsters he encounters on the way. It won't even be the King. In Wanderland, your own mind is your worst enemy. (SP/Alice in Wonderland. Light Creek, rated M for gore and insanity)
1. Chapter 1 - The White Rabbit

**Welcome to this story! Ahead, there's probably going to be lots of violence, insanity, and creepy stuff. So, if that's your thing, keep reading! I'm in a rough patch with my other story, Stripes and Belts, so if you're reading that and waiting for an update, I'm doing my best to think of some ideas. But the only thing I could think about was the structure of this story, so I wrote it down. If you're not familiar with Alice in Wonderland, you should read the book or watch the movie so you know the plot.**

**By the way, my birthday was yesterday! I'm thirteen now! Woot woot!**

**Okay, let's begin. **

He stared at the board blankly, waiting for something, anything, to jump out at him.

But nothing did. Not the dank, musty air that reeked of sweat and hung heavy around him, not the potted plants in the classroom that had long since wilted.

The words just kept flowing out of the teacher's mouth, endless blabber that could've been used anywhere else for better purposes. Everything around him was toned down, too. Oh, look at that chalk and how it squeaks as he writes. Oh, look at the way the mouths turn in down in disgust as the sound of chalk contacting slate rings through the room. How interesting. But the words coming out of the old, wrinkled man's mouth?

No, the boy thought. He was wasting his life on us, a group of people who couldn't give less a damn.

The teacher, or course, was oblivious. He continued to speak. That endless river of words wasn't going to stop soon.

He felt his eyelids droop in frustration, trying to close, but he snapped them open. The rest of his body groaned in response, but he forced himself to stay awake. No matter how useless and tedious this lecture was, it was still an important part of his grade.

His fingers drummed on the desk absently, the pitter-patter sound coming from the action not distracting him in the slightest. He needed something—anything—to happen. Something exciting. Something different.

Yes, Craig Tucker needed a change in his extremely monotone life.

In that moment, something flitted around in the peripheral of Craig's vision. It was another classmate, of course—the boy he had grown up with. The young man was a blonde, with a rather scrawny build. It was as if the pack of the rest of the boys in the grade had eaten all the meat of good looks, smarts, and normality, and left the runt of the litter with the scraps. His hair was shoulder-length and mousy, rising up in tufts around his head, like a crown of some sort. His clothes were peculiar, too—he wore a button-up every day. The colors and patterns of the fabric varied, but the way they were buttoned never did. The second-to-last button was always done up incorrectly, as well as the third one from the top of his shirt.

But, for a runt, he didn't look too bad, Craig thought.

It was true. The blonde had a certain air about him—an aura that radiated fear and innocence. One that begged for protection. And with those brown eyes? Who could refuse giving the boy all your trust? He was certainly more than willing to give it to you.

Yes, Tweek Tweak was desperate for someone to keep him safe at all times.

Tweek twitched as the old man stood behind his desk, addressing the rest of the class. When they were young and naive, Craig presumed that the blonde twitched due to his coffee addiction—the truth was that the coffee had a calming effect on him, and therefore reduced his tremors. He could never be found without a coffee cup.

Craig scanned over him, trying to locate the ceramic that was seemingly glued to his left palm.

It wasn't there.

The twitchy blonde raised his hand shyly. The teacher's eyes flickered over to him disapprovingly, but he signaled for the boy to go on.

"I-I—" said Tweek, in his small voice.

That was something Craig admired about Tweek—his quiet, hesitant nature. It was as if Tweek didn't want to ruin the balance of life by asking too much. He never asked for anything, though—except for a cup of coffee and a protective arm around his shoulder—which was another trait Craig found intriguing. His stoic, apathetic stance was definitely intimidating to some, he knew. Most of the time, though, he shrugged it off. It was just his personality—anyone who couldn't live with it could go jump off a cliff, for all he cared.

The teacher thought otherwise. He was annoyed by Tweek's shy stutter.

"Yes?" he asked, showing his frustration by crossing his frail arms and rolling his eyes. Craig stifled a laugh. His teacher looked like a teenager trapped in an old man's body.

Tweek's response was almost inaudible.

"What was that?"

Nothing.

"You need to speak up. I'm old, I can't hear anything."

"I said I'm—I'm—"

He looked to his hand for the reassuring cup of coffee, but, when he found that the usual mug wasn't there, he gulped and took in a breath slowly.

"I'm late."

The teacher frowned "What do you mean, you're late?"

"I'm late." the blonde repeated.

"For what?"

"I've got no time for this." Tweek said, fussing around to get his books closed and his notes organized.

It didn't seem like anyone else was getting ready to leave.

Craig's eyes drifted lazily to the clock. The second hand moved at an almost glacial pace. After a moment of interpretation of the number-to-hand ratio (Craig never liked analog clocks) he got the time. _12:33_.

His favorite curse word left his lips in a quiet mumble. Then, he returned his attention to the blonde, who was now standing up to leave in a hurry.

"I'm so late..." he murmured almost incoherently as he jogged past Craig, his schoolwork in tow.

The teacher said nothing, just gave him a stare as he left the room, leaving a few pieces of white-lined paper with notes scrawled on them in his wake.

He looked at his classmates, expecting that odd glances from them were imminent. After a moment—nothing.

Odd.

His peers just seemed normal. Token was writing furiously on his pad of paper, trying to ignore the spitballs that were landing in his hair from Clyde, while Kevin Stoley watched the whole scene, trying to choke back laughter. Meanwhile, Eric was doodling absentminded symbols of hate, while Butters tried his best not to lean over, tap him on the shoulder, and tell him to stop. Jimmy Valmer was poking Butters, trying to get his attention for a joke that probably wasn't funny at all. Kenny McCormick sat behind Cartman, feet up on the chair, a small grin etched on his face as he dozed. Bebe and Wendy sat together, giggling and gossiping and making all of the boys uncomfortable. Next to Kenny, in the back row, was Christophe, who was glaring at the boy next to him. In turn, Damien just chuckled, his usual not-exactly-sane smirk playing on his lips. And, if Tweek were still seated, he would be twitching, falling victim to anyone's eyes that ever glanced his way.

Token was the first to stand. To Craig's surprise, he walked right out. Not a word from the teacher, again. He just strode out the door with his usual confidence and sureness. Jimmy took longer to get up, due to his disability, but he followed Token, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Craig began to wonder. First, Tweek, then Token, then Jimmy? Where was everyone going?

Kevin and Clyde stood up at the same time, grinning widely, as if they knew something Craig didn't. They walked out of the classroom, too, Clyde turning back to glance at Craig before closing the door behind them.

Before the door could shut, though, Bebe and Wendy jogged over and caught it, disappearing as well. Christophe was next, Craig saw. He could see the French boy pull out a cigarette as he closed the door.

Kenny followed, and then Damien, and then finally Cartman and Butters. Craig and the teacher were the only ones in the classroom.

Craig whirled around to see if anyone else was there, but he was alone. The old man just stared at him, his eyes shining in amusement.

"What the hell is going on." Craig said. He sighed at the tone of his voice. The flatness made every question sound like a statement.

"You should go." the teacher told him. "You're late."

By now, Craig was extremely frustrated.

"Late for WHAT."

But before his question could be answered, the man ushered Craig out of his seat and pushed him out the door. Craig looked at him, completely confused. He looked around him, trying to see if anyone lagged behind.

There was no one. The halls were deserted.

Craig sighed and tried to open the classroom door. He found, in turn, that it was locked. He scowled. Now what?

He decided to make the best of his time out of class. Everyone else in the building had to suffer the torture of lecture, so why shouldn't he use the excuse "I got locked out" to his advantage and ditch?

He sped towards the exit doors, already thinking of what he was going to do. He was going to go and buy a full tub of ice cream and eat it outside in the fresh, crisp spring air. He was going to go home afterwards, saying that there was a gas leak and that they got out early. His whole day was carefully planned out in the few moments it took him to get from the glossy wood door to the rusty old one parallel to it.

He shook the handles, but they wouldn't budge.

Craig took a moment to recap the events that had occured in the past few moments. Tweek had left, and so had the rest of his class. He got shoved out, and now he was locked into school with nowhere to go but down the hall to the next grade's wing.

So that's what he did.

Craig stomped down the hall at a steady pace, and realized as it quickened that he could hear something. He stopped abruptly to listen. The sound was light and airy, and strangely familiar. Craig felt a wave of deja-vu set in as he heard the happy laughter. From where it came from, he didn't know. It seemed like it didn't come from anywhere, and that it was just surrounding him. Craig waved his hand around in front of him, trying to see if there was some sort of invisible force in front of him.

Nothing.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the laughter disappeared.

Craig would stress—the fluorescent lights in the school weren't the best. So when they went out, one by one, he tried his best to stay calm. His peers had left in a hurry. Then he gets locked into school. As he runs down the hall, someone—something—starts laughing. Then the lights go out. All strange, he thought. His subconscious wanted to construct some sort of alibi, some excuse for it all. But he just didn't know what would fit the bill. Could it all be a coincidence?

No. Nothing that interesting could happen to Craig. There had to be some sort of explanation.

Then, a question began to embed itself into his mind.

Where was Tweek?

Craig wasn't afraid to admit—he had developed feelings for the blonde. But who wouldn't? His innocence, paired with his peculiar but attention-drawing looks, made him seem almost irresistible. Also, he had been the first to leave the classroom so suddenly. Where was he going? What was he late for?

Curiosity began to creep in around Craig, replacing fear.

"Hello." he called. "Anyone."

No answer.

He kept walking, not knowing where he was going, but not caring. He bumped into nothing, to his surprise. With each step, the air grew lighter and fresher, and less compressed and recycled. It almost felt as if he were taking a walk outside. However, the darkness around him grew deeper, until he couldn't see anything.

"Hello..." his voice and footsteps seemed to echo as he continued onward.

Suddenly, Craig felt his face collide with something. It was firm, but soft at the same time. Like carpet. This, too, seemed familiar. But in the complete darkness, his senses were impaired. He felt blinded by the pitch-black around him.

Craig jumped when he heard a voice come from up high. Way up high.

"Hello?"

He felt himself relax after he realized who it was.

**Tadaa!**

**Did you like it? Hmm? I'm going to try this new writing style, where the characters of South Park are metaphorically the characters in Alice in Wonderland. Send me a review with your predictions on who's who! If you want a hint, contact me and I'll give you one :)**

**By the way, let's get this cleared up:**

**I don't own South Park. It belongs to Trey and Matt, the two guys who deserve Nobel Prizes.**

**And I don't own Alice in Wonderland. That belongs to Disney and Lewis Carroll. (I think.)**

**Okay, that's done. Please review! I love them so...**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Door

**Chapter two, yay! I actually wrote down the details of this chapter on a paper so there wouldn't be any holes in the story. Pay attention, because some of the details will be important. I think. Sorry this one's short. The next one will probably be shorter, though. After that, though, things will get longer.  
Well, here we go! Enjoy chapter 2!**

Craig sighed in relief.

"Token?" he asked, looking for his friend. The darkness still enveloped him, though, and he could see nothing. He shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. It didn't even make a difference. He knew something was wrong. If he was still in school, then it wouldn't be this dark. He would at least be able to see the familiar shape of his hand in front of his face if he were still there.

Token's voice came through again.

"You're late."

This was the second time he had been informed of his tardiness. It was peculiar-was someone expecting him someplace?

Craig racked his brain. He was a forgetful boy—like most teenagers—but he really couldn't recall making any sort of plans for today. Today was just an ordinary day.

Well, until 12:33, at least.

"What am I late for. And why does everyone keep saying that." Craig asked—sort of- his voice ringing out in the silence. It gave him comfort, like he had company. Of course, Token was there, but Craig really needed to verify that he himself was there, before he could take in anyone else.

The darkness was that convincing. He wasn't even sure if he existed anymore.

But wait. What was that?

Craig began to see a shape forming in front of him. It was if a blind man had gotten surgery and got his sight back. It was barely visible, but he began to identify the familiar figure before him. The long, slender appendages wiggled in greeting as his eyes adjusted to the light.

His fingers! He could see again!

Along with his fingers, everything else came into view. He looked down, and realized he was standing on a tile floor. The black and white pieces of clay were grimy and murky, as if they hadn't been scrubbed in ages. Next to him was a table with a small box on it, along with a small metal object Craig placed as a key.

"Craig..." Token's voice made Craig turn around.

It was definitely not what he had expected.

His friend lay there, battered and bruised, with blood trickling out in a stream on the side of his mouth. The whole right side of his face was smeared in red, too, and his eyes were swollen and purple. His body lay limp, slumped against the plain black wall at an odd angle. Craig realized that his bones were broken in looking at his contorted body.

"What happened. Who did this to you." he looked at Token's body, a grimace forming on his face. Automatically, he felt guilty. For some reason, it felt rude to be disgusted at Token's appearance, so he tried to plaster on something else. It didn't seem to work, though, because Token's eyes flashed in agitation, like they normally did when he was annoyed or frustrated with his peers' ignorance.

"Don't be late." he choked out. "Or this will happen to you."

Craig grew more and more impatient and exasperated by the second. What the hell was he late for?  
"Can I help."

Token shook his head. "There's nothing you can do...they'll get you..."

"Who."

"He's so mad, and he's so angry..."

"What the hell are you talking about. Token, dude, it's me. Just tell me who the hell beat you up."

"There's no time for that." Token said. He shifted over awkwardly, spitting up blood everywhere in the process—including on Craig's shirt. The space where he lay before was uncovered to reveal a small door, not much bigger than one a cat would go through.

"There's never enough time..." he murmured. "Now...take the key and go through the door..."

"Why the fuck would I do that. And why the fuck did they hurt you."

"I didn't let him through, at first." Token answered. "_I thought that life in our world would be so much better without them. I was a fool, and I told them 'No. Not this time...'_ and one went mad and the other lost his temper."

"Okay, I officially have no idea what the fuck you're telling me." Craig informed him dully.

"Just...go through the door." Token rasped.

"I won't fit." Craig retorted.

"The box." Token pointed a weak, bloody hand at the table. "Take the key and then eat something in the box..."

Craig looked for another way out. He was not going through that door. He wasn't going to get involved any more than this. He needed to get back to class and take notes.

But there wasn't a door in sight.

"This is impossible..." Craig whispered, taking the key and opening the box.

It was filled with small cookies and sweets. Hmm. Maybe this day wasn't as bad as he thought.

Craig ate one without a second thought.

He absorbed the flavor—kind of pasty, in a way, but not bad at all. It was very sweet—almost too much so—and it reeked of vanilla, but it wasn't all bad.

"Good cookies." he noted.

Craig froze. His voice was very high-pitched all of a sudden.

He looked and realized he was much closer to the floor now. Had he shrunk?

"How..." he began, but trailed off. Craig wasn't necessarily scared, or fearful in any way. It was intriguing. A cookie that made you smaller? Interesting.

"_Everyone has madness_." Token's voice boomed louder now. "The cookie didn't really make you smaller. Your madness made you think that it did."

"Madness?"

"Use it wisely." Token said. "If you abuse it, the way he does, you're not going to last a second."

"Who's...he?"

"There's no time! Get moving, kid!" he shouted, reaching over and pushing a now two-foor-tall Craig to the door.

Flustered, Craig put the key in the door after a lot of protesting. Token had insisted that he'd be late if he didn't, so he finally gave in and opened the door, crawling through.

"God, not this again." he muttered at the pitch-black in front of him. The texture of the tile flooring reassured him that it was indeed still there. He could again hear faint laughter, but, again, he didn't know where it came from. As he walked down the small space, he thought about what Token said.

_He's so mad, and he's so angry..._

Who was the "he" that Token was talking about? Whoever they were, they were most likely, on some level, either insane or evil. Token wouldn't ever dare to do something insulting to anyone—that proved that "he" did it on his own accord.

_I thought that life in our world would be so much better without them. I was a fool, and I told them 'No. Not this time...'_

And what was his "world?" Had Token gone crazy? Was this all some big joke on Craig, that everyone knew about but him?

Not this time.

That had to mean that this had happened before. Whoever "he" was, he had gone through this door many times.

_Everyone has madness..._

Craig wasn't insane. Not that he knew of. He never recalled having any sort of delusions or any thoughts that would be out of the ordinary for your average male adolescent. He supposed, to some extent, Token's statement was true. Everyone had some insanity in them, whether it was some crazy thought or action now and then or some obsession. He didn't know anyone who was completely devoid of quirks.

_Use it wisely..._

This was the part that Craig couldn't comprehend. He had to use his madness wisely? How was that possible, anyway?

Craig frowned. He hated cryptic messages.

As he thought, he hardly noticed that the tile beneath him had vanished.

He was falling, fast.

In realizing this, the raven screamed as loud as he possibly could, hoping someone would hear him. The laughter continued, and the screams that were escaping his mouth rattled the inside of his skull. All the thoughts got jumbled up like alphabet soup in his mind as he continued to fall for what seemed like hours. He flipped over a few times, and it took all of the little composure he had left not to retch.

Finally, he hit something that wasn't air.

But it wasn't ground, either.

It was sticky and had a sharp taste, almost like metal in his mouth, Craig realized, because he hadn't closed his mouth. The liquid began to overpower him, and Craig flailed around, trying to breathe. The dark liquid seeped over his head, and Craig felt his lungs fill with it. His arms seemed to be determined to get back to the surface. They waved around, treading...whatever the surrounding mass was, and they were doing their absolute best to try and keep Craig alive. But it was no use. It was as if the surface had disappeared, and all that was left was this sea of blood.

Yes, blood. Craig realized it as he began to sink downward, letting it suffocate him. He had given up, and this was the end. He would meet his demise in a sea of blood, dazed and confused, not knowing what the hell was going on. This is how Craig Tucker would perish. Involved in something he never wanted to be involved in in the first place.

What a great way to die.

He waited. Waited for the blood to finally kill him. Waited for his conscience to drift away.

But nothing happened. He floated there, just waiting.

Then, a miracle happened. Craig felt a pair of arms pull his own up. They were shaky and weak, but enough to get Craig back up to the now existent surface.

He gasped for air sharply. His lungs exploded as he coughed up blood, blood, and more blood. It went everywhere. Craig looked at his location. He was still in the blood-sea, but there was a beach nearby. On the beach were people, huddled in a circle around a fire. They were all looking over at him, eyes wide. Craig's eyes stung from the seemingly blinding sunlight that burned into his skin. After they adjusted, he turned around to look at who saved him.

"Are you o-okay?"

**Hee hee hee! I made Token the metaphorical door guy, like in the movie. :D**

**Based on the clues I gave you, who do you think is Craig's rescuer? And who the hell is laughing? **

**Leave me a review with your predictions. I can't wait to get your reviews. They make me really, really, really, really (keep saying "really" for about as much time as it takes me to update my other story x.x) happy!**

**I can't wait to get enough juice in my brain to write the next chapter. :D**


	3. Chapter 3 - Dodo

**I would like to tell you all that I wrote this chapter on my brand new laptop! I can't wait to write many, many more. **

**In this chapter, you're going to get a hell of an explanation for a lot of shit, so be prepared, and pay attention!**

Craig was actually surprised to see another one of his classmates standing there.

"Jimmy..." he began.

"Come d-dry off." he said, taking Craig's hand in his own. Craig hated physical contact of any way, shape, or form, but this one felt like it was mandatory to touch Jimmy.

Said boy had changed dramatically since he was a young boy. His brown hair hung down in a shaggy mop, the fringe ending right over his eyebrows. His eyes were a warm shade of brown, with a bit of green sprinkled in. And his mouth was turned up slightly, giving him the illusion of a permanent smile. However, he still sported crutches and wobbled a bit as he moved. But now, he looked different. His hair was plastered down to his face with sweat, and his eyes were dull and surrounded by a deep purple that showed that he hadn't gotten enough sleep.

The crippled boy practically dragged the raven out of the sea of blood and onto shore. The people that were crowded around the fire stood, looking down at him.

"Is he the guy we need?" asked one.

"He can't be. He's too scrawny." responded another.

Craig didn't have the strength to snap at the person's comment. Instead, he lay there, weak and frail. He was still immensely confused as to where he was, why he was here, and how he had gotten here.

"Guys, this is Craig.." Jimmy told the group.

"Uh, hi." Craig said, his voice groggy, as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep.

"C-Craig, we n-need your h-help." Jimmy told him, taking a seat next to another comrade.

"For what? I came here by accident. I got locked out of class after you guys left and-"

"C-Craig, please. J-Just listen to us." Jimmy interrupted him again, sighing and taking his head in his hands. He looked like an adult at that moment, and not a teenage boy.

"We know that you have n-no idea what's g-going on."

Craig sighed in relief. Finally, someone might be able to give him some answers that made sense.

"Let me f-first start out by telling you that you're in Wanderland."

Craig raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Wanderland? You mean Wonderland."

Jimmy shrugged. "Well, yes, but the King changed it."

"Why?"

"B-because he would lose his t-t-temper if people continued calling it W-Wonderland. He wanted to call it Wanderland, so here we a-are."

"Why can't you just call it Wonderland?"

"You d-don't understand." Jimmy said, looking around, even though no one was there but him, Craig, and the small group of people. "If the King ever f-finds out, you're d-dead."

"He's that angry all the time?"

"Y-Yes. So w-watch yourself."

"Okay." Craig agreed. "I have a lot of questions."

"I know you d-do. Let's clear everything up, sh-shall we?"

"Why are you all huddled together at the beach?"

"W-We need to d-discuss a p-plan."

"For what?"

"To s-save one of the members in our group."

"Group?"

"Y-yes. We are the only people here that haven't b-been overcome by m-madness." Jimmy explained.

"Well, except for the Traveler." noted one of the people in the group.

"Who's the Traveler?" Craig automatically asked.

"The only p-person that can help save our missing g-group member. We've been s-seeking his wisdom for y-years, but we've never found him."

"Why do you have to suddenly search for a missing group member? What's so special about him?" Craig asked. Why would they go through so much trouble just to save one person? Craig stifled a laugh when he realized how like him this question was.

"Look at us, C-Craig. R-really look." Jimmy told him, gesturing to the group. There were only a couple people-eight, at most. All of them looked sleep-deprived and hungry. Their clothes were torn and dirty, and their faces were covered in caked-up blood. They all looked so miserable.

"There a-are only a f-few of us l-left." Jimmy told him. "We've lost so m-many...and we can't afford to l-lose a-another. We h-have to find him."

"Who is he, anyways?" Craig felt bad asking the question. All of these people looked so horrible-he couldn't even imagine what they had been through.

"Tweek. He got c-captured by t-the King for being l-late, and now they're gonna k-kill him in a few days."

Craig felt all the color drain out of his face. Tweek? This king guy had Tweek? And they were going to kill him?

This world was so fucked up. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Why not now?"

"The K-king is a fan of torture." Jimmy explained. "He likes to p-play with his victims before finishing them off. That's g-good, because then we have time to save h-him, and t-time is the first priority h-here."

Craig felt something in his brain click. It seemed like everything in Wanderland was about time. Maybe that would help give him some sort of clue into what was going on here. Sure, he knew some information, thanks to Jimmy, but not enough to completely understand. It was like there was one tiny obstacle clouding his mind from knowing.

"So the King just goes in there and tortures them himself?"

"N-no." Jimmy said. "H-He has...helpers."

"I thought so."

"Th-they're all his p-puppets."

"Puppets?" This all sounded like one big horror movie.

"They d-don't know any better than to k-kill. They're so insane, th-they have no s-sense of what's r-right and wr-wrong." Jimmy's face was contorted into a grimace. He seemed like he knew a lot about this stuff, and Craig could feel a vibe that read that Jimmy was the leader of this small group.

"So, what's the plan?" Craig asked, looking to see if anyone's face had lit up with any ideas. Sure, he had no clue what was going on, and he wanted to go home, but if Tweek was in trouble, the raven would do anything to keep him safe from harm.

"W-Well, I'm g-going alone." Jimmy said quickly. His voice had a sense of finality, despite his stutter.

And, despite the blunt answer, Jimmy's "plan" received many protests in return.

"I want to go, too!"

"You'll die if someone doesn't go with you."

"Pick me!"

"N-NO!" Jimmy shouted, and everyone shut up. Yes, this boy was definitely a leader. "It's too d-dangerous. You're all r-rookies. I know more about th-this p-place than anyone. Let me g-go alone. I'll be f-fine."

"No." Craig said stoically. In the short amount of time it took for the words to leave Jimmy's mouth, he had made a descision.

He was going to help to save Tweek. Besides, he only had one other option-sitting here, feeling guilty for letting Tweek die. Risking his life seemed like the lesser of two evils.

"Wh-what?" Jimmy seemed a bit baffled by Craig's statement. Having known the noirette for years, Jimmy knew that Craig wasn't one to risk his own well-being for someone else. The cripple wouldn't call that selfish-it was clever. While everyone else threw themselves away for their own expense, Craig stayed perfectly safe, in his own bubble of uncaring, which protected him from harm.

"I'm going with you. I'm not going to let Tweek die." he said sharply.

Jimmy couldn't do anything about it. He was smart enough to know that when Craig Tucker made up his mind, the decision was final, and that was that. Not even the best persuader could alter his opinion or plan of action.

"Alright." Jimmy sighed. "Let's go."

The two boys ignored the protests coming from the group as they turned and started walking down the beach.

"Where do we go, anyways?" Craig asked, looking around. The crimson sea startled him every time he stared into it. He was so used to the water being blue his whole life.

"Jimmy?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you know why there's blood where water should be?"

"Unfortunately, y-yes." Jimmy sighed as they continued to walk. "It's bloody because of the King."

"What?"

"The King doesn't know what to do with his victims after he's killed them, so he has his workers dump them in the ocean."  
"There are THAT many bodies?" Craig shuddered at the idea of finding a decapitated head in a sticky pool of red.

"Yeah. Th-the King sometimes kills just for f-fun..."

"What a twisted bastard." the taller boy murmured.

"He's t-taken so m-many..." Jimmy whispered, turning abruptly so they walked down a forest path. The flowers that surrounded them were in full bloom, and their cheerful-looking colors seemed out of place.

"So, everyone here but you is mad?"

"Y-Yes. There are some that aren't controlled by the King. S-some of them just r-roam around and d-do what they w-want, even th-though they're m-mad. Th-they're not as m-much of a th-threat, but you s-still need to b-be careful."

The duo continued down the path. Craig kept tripping over roots that jutted out randomly in front of him, like they were purposely doing it somehow.

After a while, the sun began to fade behind the trees, and an almost unrealistic darkness began to fall over the two boys. Craig groaned. Not this again. He couldn't stand darkness anymore.

Jimmy seemed to feel the same.

"I-I wish the s-sun would sh-show it's f-face more of-often." he said, glaring, as if he was trying to show his distaste to the sudden loss of light.

As they wandered deeper into the forest, Craig swore he could hear twigs snapping that weren't because of his or Jimmy's feet. He felt like he was being watched everywhere he went, and he didn't like the feeling it gave him. The sudden chill that spread goosebumps over his bare arms wasn't something he enjoyed. At all.

The two boys didn't speak as they wandered into the unknown, but Craig wished Jimmy would. His voice was comforting, a constant reminder that he wasn't alone. He had felt that way even before he had fallen into this world known as Wanderland.

But, in Craig's subconscious, he knew he wasn't alone. Not ever, since he had started down that hallway. That voice that he continued to hear-the familiar, almost ceaseless giggling-proved otherwise.

"Jimmy?" Craig finally spoke, slashing the silence in the air with his words.

"Y-yes?" the crippled boy asked as he walked. His crutches against the ground made a rhythmic thump every second.

"Do you ever hear laughter?"

**Tadaa!**

**I made Jimmy the metaphorical Dodo, if you don't know. In the movie, they portray Dodo to be this goofy, crazy character, but I made him serious. The group of people around the fire stands for the circle of sea creatures that dance around Dodo in one of the scenes in the movie. **

**What do you think is going to happen next? Tell me what you think of this story and your predictions in a review. I haven't getting as much lately, and it makes me a sad panda, so pleasepleaseplease take the time to give me your comments!**


	4. Chapter 4 - Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum

**The fourth installment! I'm loving you guys' predictions. By the way, I wrote the poem myself, and I am dedicating it to my friend Brigette because she asked me to. Okay, here we go**!

"Y-Yes. All the t-time." Jimmy replied, sighing. Craig felt bad for his friend, walking was probably difficult for him, due to his disability paired with the gnarled roots that lay tauntingly beneath his feet.

"What is it?" he asked. He had been wondering what that laughter was.

"I-I really d-don't know." Jimmy sighed. "I-I've been wondering f-for a l-long time, but I never knew what it w-was. It's p-probabaly just our m-madness. We n-need to keep ourselves in ch-check."

Right. Craig remembered that his own mind was his worst enemy here. Still, he could've sworn that the laughter increased in volume when they spoke of it.

The two boys continued through the seemingly endless forest, until they reached a small clearing. In the treeless space, there were logs grouped together to form a sort of circle. In the middle of the shape, there was a fire burning.

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "S-Someone's al-already h-here." he noted, looking around for any faces.

Craig moved to take a seat on a log, but Jimmy held one crutch in front of the raven, stopping him.

From somewhere around them, a twig snapped.

The message his friend was sending him was clear-Don't make a sound.

Craig obliged.

In that moment, Craig grew hyper aware of everything around him-the wind ruffling the leaves, the sun reappearing from behind the branches of the trees, the pitter-patter of footsteps...

Footsteps?

They turned at the same time, and, sure enough, standing several yards away, were two other boys.

Their backs were turned, so Craig couldn't see their faces. The duo were dressed alike, in what looked like business suits. Craig looked at himself, his before white t-shirt now dyed red, and his blue jeans ripped. The soles of his beat-up canvas sneakers were peeling off, almost folding over under his feet.

He had only been in Wanderland for a few hours, and he was a mess. How could...whoever these two were be wearing perfect-looking, crisp suits?

Well, they were perfect-looking. From the back, at least.

As Jimmy and Craig slowly approached them, Craig observed what he could from the back of their heads. The one on the left's hair was brown, and the one on the right, black.

Oh, no.

This couldn't be. Not another person he knew.

Craig felt a strangled sound escape his lips. Even though it was audible, the suit-clad boys didn't turn around. They stood stock-still. It didn't even look like they were breathing.

Craig wasn't surprised at that. Here, he barely knew what was normal anymore.

Jimmy's hands shook as they got closer to the two. He was trying his best not to make noise with his crutches, but the small, unnatural clinks of metal were highly distinguishable from all the other, softer sounds of nature.

Well, if laughing was considered natural.

The raven chewed his bottom lip as they drew nearer and nearer. He knew that, whoever these guys were, they weren't his allies in this. Jimmy had told him that, other than the small group of people he had met beforehand, everyone in Wanderland was completely insane. His hands found each other, curling around in circles, looking for a nonexistent weapon. He had nothing to hold, though, he realized. And that made him even more restless.

By now, he and Jimmy were in touching distance of the two boys. Still, they stood, feet perfectly planted in the ground, not moving a muscle.

Jimmy cleared his throat. Nothing.

Were these people even real? Craig wondered. Maybe his madness was playing some more tricks on him.

Maybe it was a hologram. Maybe they were statues. Maybe the whole idea of Wanderland was one big metaphor that he didn't understand. Whoever these people were, they didn't seem like people at all.

Craig was proven wrong, though, when they turned around to face him and Jimmy.

There, in front of him, were Clyde Donovan and Kevin Stoley.

Well, barely.

He could hardly make out their distinguishing facial features because of the burns and scars that practically blanketed their faces. Their skin had a waxy, pale quality that made them look like they were sick. Though the suits the duo were wearing seemed clean from behind, he saw that they really weren't. The matching white button-downs the two wore were covered in dirt and were shredded to the point where you could see their clammy skin underneath. The part that Craig found most intriguing-and disturbing-were his friends' eyes. They were clouded over and gray, almost as if they were being mind-controlled.

"You'll be late." the smaller of the two, Kevin, said. His usually high-pitched, happy voice was low and monotone.

"Don't say that." Clyde mumbled, turning to face Kevin. "Then they won't be able to hear our story."

"St-story?" Jimmy raised his eyebrows. Craig could tell-his friend was trying to look casual. It seemed logical-these two would probably freak out if they riled them up.

"Yes. Sit down." Kevin told them, ushering them back to the log circle, making them sit down.

"Actually, we have to get g-going..." Jimmy began.

Clyde cut him off. "We insist."

Jimmy nodded slowly, letting them go on, signaling to them that he and Craig were going to stay to hear the story.

As they began to speak, their voices grew from zombie-like to animated and singsong. As if they were being controlled by the same mind, Clyde and Kevin spoke at the exact same time.

Back in the day

When the mome raths outgrabe

Everything was happy and bright.

The he came along

And right was made wrong

And opposite, wrong was made right.

His good little sidekick

The one with the hat

Followed him wherever he went

His head was too thick

The King made sure of that,

And consequently, his mind was bent.

Along with the sidekick,

Many others were twisted

Into thinking they were the King's slaves

Wonderland had perished

But the King never missed it,

He dug innocent people's graves.

But then, the king realized

As he went on with his fun

That he had killed them inside

Killed them all. Every one.

And now, here we are

In a world made of madness

When really, inside, we're overcome by sadness

The only thing we can do is eat something tasty

You both look just fine, despite a bit pasty.

The whole poem seemed eerie, but the last stanza was what sent Craig running. There was no way in hell that his best friend was going to eat him. Jimmy followed, trying to run fast, but tripping over roots and pebbles.

"We didn't finish our story." Clyde murmured. It was back to the slow, brainwashed voice of before.

"Come back." Kevin said.

Craig looked over his shoulder as he ran. They had caught up to Jimmy. He turned quickly and grabbed the cripple's hand, practically dragging him away. Kevin and Clyde gained on them easily. Their faces were still blank as they chased the two somewhat sane boys.

"J-Jesus C-Christ!" Jimmy hollered as he narrowly dodged Clyde reaching out to pull him back.

Craig saw a pale finger by his shoulder. If he slowed down at any time, Kevin would grab him. He smacked the finger away and kept running. Though he knew he was going fast-his long legs reassured him of that-the whole world seemed to move in slow motion.

Craig felt all of his breath come flying out of his stomach as Clyde finally pushed him onto the grassy ground. He fell with a thump and flailed as Clyde tried to claw him with what he realized were razor-sharp nails. Who knew?  
Kevin had pinned Jimmy down beside him, holding his wrists. Jimmy struggled, trying to get the crutch that fell nearby to use as a weapon. But it was no use.

"Now, let's finish this." Clyde growled.

"We don't like being interrupted. It wastes time." Kevin said. "And when you waste time..."

"You're late." They said at the same time.

Your blood will seep

Into the deep crimson sea

And all he'll say is...

"You're late for tea."

Craig felt a shiver go up his spine as the words seem to echo around him. He couldn't imagine himself dying at the hands of his best friend.

"Clyde, we're best friends...remember?"

Clyde's face flickered when Craig said his name, as if he were remembering something. But, as quickly as the incident occurred, he returned to his blank expression.

"We've done everything together." Craig said weakly as Clyde buried his fingers into his neck. Craig could feel the sharp points digging into his skin and causing blood to trickle out beneath them.

Clyde remained silent.

"I sit next to you in class. You and Kevin were throwing spitballs at Token. Don't you remember?"

The brunette just stared at him, still completely confused. He looked like a little kid, trying to recall what he had done to get into so much trouble.

Then, the suit-clad boy shook his head, getting rid of any memories that might have creeped into his mind.

"The end." Kevin and Clyde said at the same time. And, at the same time, they lunged in, attacking Craig and Jimmy with their sharp, animalistic teeth.

Craig moved his limbs around, trying to find an opening to punch or kick Clyde off him. He pulled the arm Clyde was using to hold down his right hand and bit it as hard as he possibly could. Clyde pulled away, but before he could pin down Craig's arm again, he received a big punch in the face. The brunette flew backwards to the ground, and Craig was free. He grabbed Jimmy's crutch that lay nearby.

Craig looked at the dull thing, wondering how he was going to save Jimmy with this. The crutch was smooth and dull, and cool to the touch. It didn't seem like it could inflict any damage. Then, a shiny object caught his attention.

It was a spike.

The thing was small, but its end was jagged. Along with it were many others, lining up the whole inside of the crutch. Good. Jimmy had come prepared.

Without even thinking of what this might mean, Craig slammed the row of metal spikes into Kevin's back. What flowed out of the boy wasn't what he expected. In lieu of blood, a black sort of smoke filled the air, and Kevin vanished.

Clyde still lay there, unconscious. Craig raised the crutch to inflict upon him the same fate, but then stopped. He couldn't do that. Not to his best friend, at least.

Jimmy got up, flustered.

"Th-Thank you, C-Craig." he said breathlessly, taking the crutch from Craig's hand and fumbling for the other one.

"Uh, you're welcome." Craig muttered, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Why did Kevin disintegrate?"

"The b-blood of the p-people that have been overcome by m-madness is different than ours. Instead of b-bleeding and d-dying, they spurt out black s-steam and v-vanish."

"Where do they go?"

"N-Nobody knows." Jimmy shrugged. "N-Now, let's get the h-hell out of here, shall we?"

Craig nodded, and they ran back into the woods.

**Tadaa!**

**Did you like it? Hmm? HMM?**

**Well, I did. Don't worry, you'll be seeing more of these two later, along with pretty much every other character you've seen or heard of so far.**

**Tell me, in a review, what you thought of the story, and what you think it might mean. I'm giving you guys hints, so tell me what you think are the missing pieces of the puzzle! I love hearing your predictions and comments. SO. FUCKING. MUCH :D**

**Once again, this was written on my new laptop 3 I named him Otto :3**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Flower Garden

**This one's longer! Yay! By the way, I'm in New York City :D**

**I only got, like two or three reviews for the last chapter, and that made me a sad panda...**

**Oh well ^_^ But please try to review anyway. It shows that I'm not the only one who reads this...**

As they continued through the woods, Craig continued to feel extremely uneasy. He hadn't killed Clyde. What if he was following him and Jimmy right now? This was Wanderland, after all. What if Kevin hadn't actually died?

This was all such a mess, but he had someone more important to focus on now. Tweek.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Craig asked Jimmy, whose response was clouded by his heavy, labored breathing due to his efforts to keep up with Craig's large, graceful strides. As he saw Jimmy huffing and puffing, face red, he slowed down enough for his crippled friend to take a full breath.

"W-We need to find a way through everyone to the c-castle."

Great, Craig thought. The king lived in a castle. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Everyone?"

"N-No one can come into the c-castle without the king's c-consent. He has g-guards stationed around it to keep us out."

Jimmy really seemed to know a lot about this stuff. "So...you've tried to get in before?"

"He t-took one of us. I t-tried to save him, but then..."

"What?"

"N-Nevermind. I d-don't want to t-talk about it." Jimmy sighed. Craig suppressed a frustrated sigh. He was getting curiouser and curiouser about this one hidden secret that everyone else seemed to know but him.

"Okay, we need to get to the castle to save Tweek. But where the hell is it, anyways?"

"Th-That's what I don't know." his friend responded, his eyes squinting as they grew closer to a gap in the trees, where some sunlight leaked through the otherwise dim air. "I n-never got p-past him..."

"Past who?" Craig grew excited. Maybe Jimmy knew who the infamous "he" was. Of course, one of the "he"s was the King, Craig knew, but there was another one that no one said the name of.

"I-I can't s-say it, or he'll show up." Jimmy gave him an apologetic glance. "S-Sorry, C-Craig."

Craig groaned. "I just wish I knew more than what I do right now."

Jimmy looked straight at him right then. The glint in his hazelnut-brown eyes showed a sort of knowledge that Craig couldn't fathom. Beneath all the tiredness that this boy had faced, there lay a sense of wisdom that made Jimmy seem older than he really was. With that wisdom lay an intense fire of determination. It was obvious that saving Tweek from the King was important to him.

"It'll r-reveal itself in t-time. Just b-be patient. It m-may seem b-blurry now, but soon everything will al-almost make s-sense."

"Almost." Craig repeated.

Jimmy nodded and looked up at the sky, as if he were talking to Wanderland itself. "Almost. There are s-some things even I d-don't get about this p-place."

Craig remembered what Token had told him when he had entered this world to begin with. Before, none of it made sense, but now it almost did.

"Everyone has madness...use it wisely..."

Almost, like Jimmy had said.

It was like a word that one hears, but can't remember what it is. It lingers on the tip of your tongue, and you know it's there, but you don't quite grasp it. That's how Craig felt. He was missing one piece of the puzzle, and now he was determined to find it. Solve it.

And, Craig knew, that the only way he had a chance to find that missing piece was to devote himself to saving Tweek.

Before he could finish his mental pep-talk, Craig noticed something flitter in and out of his peripheral vision. He turned to look at the object as it finally settled on a nearby flower.

The butterfly was unlike any he had ever seen before. It's wings were a deep black, but they were dotted with flecks of electric blue.

He approached the insect with great care. It gave him a sense of hope and comfort. This butterfly was probably the closest he could get to a reminder of the real world.

Just as his index finger touched the delicate, feathery wings, the butterfly flew out of his reach. It bounced around frantically in the air for a moment, before landing on Craig's hand.

Jimmy looked at the animal, wide eyed.

"I've never seen a b-butterfly around W-Wanderland before." he said softly, so as not to disturb it.

Craig was about to reply, but, before he could, a sharp pain pierced through his hand.

Reflexively, he let the insect go and pulled his hand back towards to his body to examine it.

"Did that fucking thing just bite me?" Craig scoffed as a small trickle of red began to run down his palm.

Jimmy stiffened.

"C-Craig..."

"It bit me! What the fuck...?"

"C-Craig...!"

"Since when do butterflies bite people? That freaking hurt!"

"CRAIG!"

Jimmy's voice was urgent. Craig withdrew from his ranting about the butterfly and looked up from his hand at his friend.

"What?"

Jimmy said nothing, just pointed to the gap of sunlight that they had now approached.

What Craig saw made him forget about the butterfly.

The vines of the trees surrounding the opening of the woods were twisting. The cracking of twigs and branches echoed through the forest. The roots lifted themselves out of the ground to meet with the other parts of the tree. They knotted together, contorting themselves into a shape of some sort. After a moment or two, the mossy branches turned into arms and legs, the trunk became their slender bodies, and leaves fell down to create hair that flowed down their gnarled, twisted shoulders.

In a few short moments, the trees had turned into two obviously feminine figures.

"Who are these two?" one of them asked the other. Her voice was high-pitched and irritating, and also hauntingly familiar. Craig felt the tip-of-the-tongue feeling bubble up inside of him again.

"They look like twigs." noted the other tree-girl. Her voice was familiar, too. Though slightly lower and more hollow-sounding than the first, it gave Craig the head-spinning sensation of deja-vu.

Craig then noticed that the voices of the two girls weren't monotone, like Kevin and Clyde. They sounded...normal, right?

So, before Jimmy could hold him back, and, before Craig's mind could calculate exactly what he was doing, words shot out of his mouth.

"Do you know where the castle is?"

The two girls stared at each other for a moment, then began to laugh. It sounded much like the laughter Craig heard as he walked earlier that day, but with a more feminine tone to it.

"You seriously believe you can just walk up to us and ask us where the castle is? We're not going to tell you that easily."

"W-what would it t-take?" Jimmy asked tentatively.

They looked at each other again and said nothing.

"Look, we need to he-"

Jimmy cut him off. "We're going to b-be l-late, and we d-don't know where the castle is."

The girls continued to look at each other, without a word.

"We really n-need your h-help." Jimmy pleaded.

"We were bluffing." Finally, one of them spoke.

"Yeah, we really don't know where the castle is." said the other.

Craig's face fell into his palms. He hated all of this uncertainty. Jimmy looked defeated, too.

"But we do know someone that may be able to help you."

He looked back up at the girls, hope springing its way into his chest.

"Who is he?" Craig demanded.

"Go through the gap between us and walk exactly seventeen steps straight. He's very particular about that, so be careful."

Jimmy and Craig looked at each other happily, and started walking, expecting the two girls to let them through.

"Wait." they said in unison.

Craig groaned.

"That information's gonna cost you." said the girl with the lower voice.

"What? We don't h-have any m-money." Jimmy told them, annoyed.

"We don't want money." the higher-pitched voice murmured.

Craig felt the dull part of Jimmy's crutch nudge his leg, asking for his attention. He then looked at Jimmy, whose eyes flickered over to the girls made of vines.

He observed them, and found, to his dismay, that their eyes, like Clyde and Kevin's, seemed to be misted over.

Jimmy knew what that meant, apparently.

The crippled boy ran as fast as he could with his disability towards the gap of light, slicing through the vines and roots that twisted in reaction around him. Before he could get far, both girls pushed their arms forward, and a winding branch wrapped itself tightly around his wrist. Craig just watched, petrified, as the knots of vegetation cornered him, too. The flowery vine that made its way around his ankle definitely didn't make this situation any better.

Craig, despite being captured, tried to run. Another stupid idea, of course. He tripped and fell, face-first, onto the dirty, leafy ground. As his skin scraped the earth, he could feel new cuts come to the surface.

He looked up at the girls, to see that they had changed dramatically. Their mouths opened wider to reveal shark-like, triangular teeth, and they grew taller in size, turning from somewhat beautiful to animalistic and beastly.

Craig heard an unnatural sound make its way toward him. There, in front of him, was one of Jimmy's crutches. He could see the bloodstains from when he had destroyed Kevin, so he knew that this was the same one he had used earlier.

"We won't give information for free, you know." one of them wailed. Yes, wailed. They sounded pained as their distorted faces moved in speech.

"We want your blood." the other hissed in his ear. "That's why we came here."

"Wha-" Craig's voice was cut off by a branch winding around his neck.

They approached him, one of the girls wielding an intimidating-looking thorn as a hand.

No, Craig thought. They weren't going to-

Before he could finish his thought, Craig felt astounding pain blossom on his chest. They had sliced a cut in it with the sharp object. His eyes shut tightly, and he held back tears as the stinging sensation of the thorn went through his body. His shirt had been cut clean off, and, except for a few scraps of fabric, he might as well be naked on top.

"Don't even try to get away." one of them turned to speak to Jimmy. "You're next."

Craig desperately tried to grab the crutch, but his thoughts were slowed because of strangulation.

He felt something rough press against his chest, and looked up to see that their roots were soaking up his own blood.

He realized. These girls weren't like normal plants-and not just for obvious reasons. They lived off blood instead of water, promising people that they would be able to get to the castle...for a price.

He winced as the thorn went into his abdomen again, this time deeper and more painful than the first.

Was this how it would end? He would die...at the hands of a plant. How humiliating.

And he failed his mission, too.

He didn't save Tweek. He and Jimmy were going to die, right here, right now-because of a couple vines. His best friend would most likely perish, too, because he wasn't there to help.

No.

Craig wouldn't let that happen.

In a sudden burst of energy, Craig lunged forward, grabbing the crutch and cutting off the vine entwining his wrist. He had to awkwardly bend his arm, but it worked nonetheless. With his right hand free, he worked on the left wrist, swatting away any re-growing vines that threatened to trap him again.

Meanwhile, the girls were hissing and trying to wrap themselves around him again, but Craig slammed the spikes of the crutch into their faces. He guessed he hit them in the eyes, because they moved about clumsily, trying to find him again.

With both his hands now free, he pulled at the branch that was strangling him. It stayed stubbornly there, until he used all of his power to completely uproot it. He realized that the roots of this plant were still soaked in what looked like another person's blood. Craig dropped the branch immediately, working instead on cutting off the vines wound tight around his ankles. He used his nimble fingers to undo the knots that had been created to trap him in plane, and stood up, exhausted.

Jimmy had already begun to work on freeing himself, but he hadn't gotten far. His arms were weaker than Craig's.

The raven ran over to his friend and said nothing, just began to hack off any parts of the tree that were holding Jimmy down. The cripple soon slid out of the vines' grasp, and he was free.

Just for good measure, Craig and Jimmy silently sneaked up behind the two now blind monsters, and slammed the spikes of the crutches into them repeatedly. They coughed and hissed as black steam began to flow out of the wounds the two boys had inflicted. Soon, they disappeared in a puff, and they knew that they had won.

"Information for a price, my ass." Craig sneered.

Jimmy let out a weak laugh and looked ahead at the gap in the trees.

"D-Do you think what they were s-saying was r-real?" he asked.

"Lets find out." Craig said, and they stepped into the light together.

**Tadaa! **

**You probably don't need help figuring out who the two girls were. Think of the only two girls that are main characters in South Park. :P**

**Who do you think is the helper? Who do you think is "he?" Who do you think I am?**

**SO MUCH UNCERTAINTY!**

**Well, for you. I already know who everyone is. Hehehe... :3**

**I will see all you lovely people in the next chapter, which I'll write soon because I'm excited for it :D**


	6. Chapter 6 - The Traveler

**This is an extremely long chapter! Yay! Also, I went to New York, and was pretty busy, so that's why I haven't been updating much. The Boston tragedy is really sickening...so sad that people do shit like that... :'(**

**I also found out what Dark Wood Circus is, and now I'm completely in love with the idea of making my own rendition of it here as a oneshot or something. Maybe. Not positive. Okay, without further ado, CHAPTER 6!**

"Remember what they said." Craig reminded Jimmy. "Seventeen steps straight."

His friend nodded, and focused on the ground, trying to get his rather clumsy footsteps in line. Craig counted in his head-

One, two, three, four, five, six.

After six steps, he looked at Jimmy for confirmation. Yes, he had taken the same amount. They continued onward, occasionally glancing each other's way, just to make sure.

...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.

They waited for the explosion. The poof of air. They waited for God to show up and show them the way. But nothing happened. Craig exhaled. The girls had lied to them. He absentmindedly looked over at the butterfly that flitted around them.

It was black, with speckles of electric blue.

"Hey, look." Craig whispered, so as not to disturb the creature. Jimmy turned toward him. "It's the same butterfly that bit me earlier."

The insect landed on Jimmy's crutch and flapped its wings slowly, almost as if it were an acknowledgement.

"It's w-weird. I n-never knew b-butterflies could b-bite." his crippled friend mused as he knelt in to peer at it.

Craig then realized.

"They can't." he deadpanned.

"Th-Then how-"

Before Jimmy could finish, a blinding blue flashed violently in the boys' eyes. Craig covered his face with his hands as the now sinking sun was outshone by the exploding light around him. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the heat radiating from what seemed to be out of nowhere dancing on his eyelids.

When he finally deemed it safe, he opened them and was astounded by what he saw.

Standing there, in front of him, was a tall, muscular boy Craig knew all too well. His brown hair was cut in a mop-like way, and it fell messily down into his face. He was dressed in a suit, like Kevin and Clyde were, but this one was much, much cleaner. Wedged in his mouth was a lit cigarette. The smoke seemed to wrap around him, making him look mystical, and, to the boys, who were dirty and scratched up, holy.

Though he looked like he knew of the physical difference between them all, the brunette's mouth was turned down in a permanent look of indifference.

"Wh-what the f-fuck?" Jimmy finally breathed out from the ground. He had fallen down in all the hullabaloo and looked up at the young man like a slave would to a king.

"You should know." the suit-clad one said, "Zat I don't like to be crowded."

That French accent always made whatever Christophe said sound silly.

Craig didn't need many words to ask how the hell Christophe came here.

"How." he said, dumbfounded.

The Frenchman looked down at him in disgust. "Deed you not get ze 'int zat I transformed from a butterfly to a 'uman? Deed eet occur to you zat zat may be ze cause of ze flash of light?"

Jimmy and Craig looked at each other stupidly.

"No." was their blunt response.

Christophe let out a noise of frustration. "Well, 'ere I am. I am ze butterfly. You called me, now what do you want?"

"Wait, wait, wait." Craig held up his hand, signaling that they needed to go back for a moment. "Why the hell did you bite me?"

Christophe glared at him. "Because I 'ate being touched."

"Well, thanks a lot." Craig informed him. "Because of you, these bloodthirsty demon vine things came and attacked us."

"Th-They told us y-you could h-help us find the c-castle." Jimmy added.

"And why would I do zat?" Christophe punctuated his statement by exhaling the smoke in the boys' faces. To Craig's surprise, it was not gray, but electric blue, like the dots on the wings of the butterfly. He coughed violently, trying to get the scratchy feeling out of his throat.

"B-Because the K-King took our f-friend." Jimmy said. "He's one of the l-last ones who c-can control his m-madness."

Christophe nodded. "I see. I 'ave also 'eard you 'ave been lookeeng for me for a long time, oui?"

Jimmy's eyes widened in an almost childlike way. "Y-You're the t-you're the t-"

He stumbled on his words more than usual as he stared up at Christophe.

"Ze Traveler." the Frenchman finished, putting the other brunette out of his misery. Jimmy nodded.

"We've b-been s-seeking you for ages, b-but we could n-never find you." the cripple explained.

Was that a smile growing on Christophe's face? Craig needed a microscope to be sure.

"Well, 'ere I am." he said, his hazel, un-clouded eyes glinting in amusement.

"So, you'll lead us to the castle?" Craig asked.

"Oui." Christophe nodded. "But first, both of you, come 'ere."

He held out his hands, expecting the two boys to take them. Craig did, reluctantly. He felt a surging warmth run through his body, and then a sudden heaviness. When he pulled away, he realized the pain in his chest had gone, and he was wearing-surprise, surprise-a suit.

"What is with you guys and suits?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Wow, you h-healed us!" Jimmy said, looking at his arms and realizing that all the cuts on them had disappeared.

"How did you do that?" Craig's eyes narrowed.

"Ze same way I turned eento a 'uman." Christophe shrugged. "My madness."

Craig gave Jimmy a look, for explanation.

"If you h-have good control of your m-madness, you'll stay alive." he murmured. "The Traveler is d-different. He h-has such g-good control of his m-madness, he can use it to his a-advantage."

Craig nodded. That seemed like a perk. Maybe, if he grew in control, like the Traveler, he would have special powers, too.

"But zey only stay eef I stay een control." Christophe pointed out. "I won't 'ave any power eef someone captures me and unleashes my madness. Wheech ees why I'm known as Ze Traveler 'ere. I move around a lot, and zerefore I stay relatively sane."

"Relatively." Craig repeated.

"Zat's right." Christophe said, glaring at the raven. He then looked at the crutches.

"Zose were your weapons?" he raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Eef you're goeeng to try takeeng on ze King, you're goeeng to need more zan zat."

"Like w-what?" Jimmy asked.

Christophe looked around, and, after a moment, grabbed two sticks that had been laying around, and gave them a stony, focused stare. The sticks, as if they were obeying a master's orders, stretched and twisted to form two swords. Their hilts had intricate, tree-like patterns carved into them. They looked ancient, like weapons used by warriors long ago.

Completely ignoring the beauty of the swords, Christophe tossed them to Jimmy and Craig, who, in turn, flinched.

"Wow." the Frenchman muttered to himself. "Zese two don't stand a chance."

Craig was about to give him the finger, but decided against it. Christophe could leave them to fend for themselves at any time he wanted to. He couldn't afford to fuck this up.

Jimmy picked up one of the swords easily. Craig gave him a quizzical stare.

"H-he made this one l-lighter for m-me." the brunette explained.

Craig grabbed his sword, and almost fell due to the dead weight of the object.

Christophe just rolled his eyes. "You better be able to keep up with me eef you want to make eet to ze castle."

Then the light flashed again, and the French boy had disappeared, in his place was the small insect they had seen before. It-or he-fluttered around for a minute, before going forward. The boys followed it, huffing and puffing to keep up. The butterfly sped through the forest so quickly that the boys didn't have enough time to see the blood spattered on the leaves of some trees.

The woods of Wanderland seemed to go on forever, and Craig was starting to feel like Christophe barely knew where he was going. But he ran nonetheless, knowing that the Frenchman was the only chance they had to save Tweek.

Finally, the branches broke to reveal the sky. Twilight had finally fallen during the span of their journey. Craig realized how tired he really was. After talking to an almost-dead Token, fighting a completely insane Clyde and Kevin, getting strangled by a few vines, and encountering one of the most powerful beings in Wanderland, it had been quite a long day.

But he wasn't going to succumb to exhaustion. It was too petty, too childish.

When he opened his eyes after briefly rubbing them, he realized that, towering over him, Jimmy, and Christophe, was a gigantic tower. It didn't seem to be made of stone or brick, like any normal castle would. After a moment of observation, Craig realized that it was not stone, but marble. It was black, with white spots mixed in. There were many other towers in the distance, and a drawbridge was pulled up, exposing the moat underneath, which was, Craig knew, filled with the blood and bodies of innocent victims. Craig was about to run up and touch the smooth surface, but Jimmy held his sword in front of his friend to stop him.

"We n-need to think up a p-plan first."

"Maybe we could split up." Craig offered. "Christophe could distract the guards, I could grab Tweek, and-"

He was interrupted by a flash of light and Christophe's sharp voice.

"Are you stupid?" the Traveler barked. "Eef we split up, we will be isolated, and ze madness of zis place will overtake us all. Do you want zat?"

"Okay, okay!" Craig raised his hands in surrender. "We'll stick together."

"S-So what do we d-do?" Jimmy asked, looking at the former butterfly expectantly.

"We 'ave to fight off ze guards." the wiser of the three pointed to the drawbridge. "Zere ees no way we can sneak een ozerwise. Zis place 'as no windows."

Craig realized that the Frenchman was right. There were no windows to be found throughout the whole castle. It was probably so that the King and his minions could torture more poor souls. Craig felt hatred bubble up inside of him, but he tried to push it down. The last thing he needed right now was to drown in his own mind.

"Okay, so how the fuck are we going to let the guards know we're here?" Craig asked, looking around. The place was deserted. Though, in the distance, he heard a slight rustling. God knows what it could've been.

Suddenly, a much louder, more important sound got the boys' attention. It was a metallic clanking.

A chain.

Christophe quickly ushered the boys back into the cover of the forest, flashing back to insect form.

"W-wait until they t-turn around to go back inside..." Jimmy breathed, his voice almost inaudible.

A low thump was heard, then the skittering and scampering of feet on the ground. This sound went on for a long time, which convinced Craig that there were many of them, whatever they were.

"What the hell? There isn't anyone here." said a small, garbled voice.

"Whatever. False alarm." said another guard.

"Now!" Jimmy said, and the bush they were hiding behind practically exploded as the boys shoved each other out of it, falling in a heap on the ground.

This was going to be a challenge from the start, Craig realized.

The guards turned to look at the boys. Craig saw that he was at eye level with one of them.

Since he had landed on top of Jimmy, his eyes were about two feet off the ground.

He scrambled to his feet, sword in hand, looking down at the small little creatures surrounding his feet. They were small, with round, chubby faces, and skin an odd shade of yellow-green. They were dressed in rags and wielded daggers and spears, with rigid edges that made Craig shudder. The most peculiar thing about them, though, were their eyes. They weren't misted over, like the ones he had encountered before. The whole eye was a pure white. He wondered if these little homunculi could even see.

Well, he found out they could when one of them launched itself at his face.

He felt sharp claws digging into his cheeks, making small but painful indents onto his face. His hands suddenly felt way heavier than before, the weight of the sword dragging them down. His legs flailed about until he found the ground, and he finally stood up, freeing Jimmy. Craig felt more of the guards poking his long legs with their weapons.

And hell, did it hurt.

Finally, he managed to gain control and pried the thing off his face, looking at it briefly before throwing it to the ground as hard as he could, before it could throw its dagger into his eye. The impact of being thrown caused the guard's neck to snap in an audible CRACK that was heard by all, the heroes and the villains.

Craig took a second to cringe, but then got back to business. He grabbed his sword with both hands, determined.

Because of the height difference between him and the gnomes (which he presumed they were), Craig realized that it was extremely difficult to swing so low.

Then, he remembered.

The cookies!

Craig dug around in his pocket. Luckily, Christophe must've transferred everything that he held in his old jeans to his new suit trousers. He found the small cookie and smiled, despite the fact that the gnomes were digging their daggers into his calves.

"JIMMY!"

The cripple turned around from his own battle with the guards, just in time to catch the piece of cookie Craig threw in his mouth.

Jimmy began to shrink, until he was the same size as the guards. His sword shrunk with him.

Craig popped the pastry into his mouth without a second thought, and the ground grew closer and closer with each passing moment.

He was then the same size as the gnomes, if not a bit taller.

Craig began slicing through the creatures mercilessly, not bothering to check if black steam oozed from them or not. He just wanted to get into the castle, save his friend, and get out.

He slashed through another gnome, watching as his arm flew off his body and into the pile of the other severed body parts of other guards that had failed to succeed in stopping him. Black steam impaired his vision, but he didn't care. He swung his sword around blindly, until he heard a satisfying slurping sound that told him that he had hit the gnome in the stomach.

After a while, it seemed like they had killed every single one.

"Jimmy?" Craig asked quietly, through the air that reeked of death.

A tired, weak voice responded.

"C-Craig?"

The raven followed the voice through the steam, until he reached Jimmy. The brunette stood next to a small pile of dead gnomes.

"You okay?" he asked, looking his friend over for any injuries. Jimmy looked okay, if not a bit shook up.

"Y-Yeah." he said. "Where's The T-Traveler?"

Said butterfly fluttered down and landed next to them. The boys, being two feet tall, realized that he was much larger to them now.

Craig could just picture Christophe talking right now, if he could-

_Great, you keeled zem all. Good work._

He would pause, to take a drag.

_I see you shrunk yourselves. Great. Now I 'ave to grow you back._

A frustrated sigh and a flash of light.

Before Craig could chuckle at his own thoughts, he felt the sword in his hand grow heavier again. There he was, standing tall, like before. The carcasses of the gnomes looked almost silly to him now.

Christophe flashed back into human form and looked over his two companions carefully.

"Impressive." he said, more to himself than to them. "Only a couple scratches. Now, let's go eenside."

They made their way over the drawbridge. Craig felt nausea rise in his throat when he saw the blood-moat. A small object floated along, moving erratically.

A human heart. And it was...beating?

Craig shook off the sense of forboding and continued walking. Beyond the drawbridge was a courtyard. The hedges were carved into intricate shapes, like spirals, hearts, and spades.

He'd heard of this in children's books. The queen-or, in this case, King-of hearts' palace.

Their now-scuffed dress shoes clacked against the cobblestone as they marveled at the large fountain that stood in the middle of the garden. It was made of white marble, unlike the towers, but the blood that spurted from it made it have a sort of pinkish tint.

Craig was getting sick of all this blood. Literally. It took a lot of self-control to keep himself from retching in disgust. How could anyone live this way? Live knowing that they tortured and killed innocent people, for what seemed to be no reason at all?

"Zey don't want to." Christophe murmured. It was as if he had read Craig's mind. "Eet's not from zeir own accord. Eet's zeir insanity. Zey can't 'elp eet. All zeir morals 'ave disappeared."

Christophe took a drag to soften the stony silence that ensued between the three of them.

"Should we g-go inside?" Jimmy asked softly.

"Yeah." Craig agreed, steeling himself. "We need to get down to business."

Christophe nodded, and flashed into an insect again, leading the way. He flew into a huge, elegant hall, with many, many doors on either side that had plates that held different names.

_Broom Closet_. Self-explanatory.

_Deposit Box_. This could range from the mail to a place to dump dead bodies. Craig hoped Tweek wouldn't be through that door.

_Throne Room_. There was no way they'd go in there.

_Dining Hall_. This was suspicious. It could be merely a place the King went to eat. What was on the menu? Craig wasn't sure.

While the two boys read the panels on the doors, a dark figure hid behind one of the many pillars lining the great hall. He grinned and shoved a red fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

_Guest Room 1._

_Guest Room 2._

_Guest Room 3._

The figure slinked skillfully through the hall, closer and closer to his unsuspecting target, shoving another fist in his mouth and feeling the loose stitches tear from doing so. He didn't care.

_Butler's Quarters._

_Tea Room_.

His grin widened as they reached that door. He felt the sweet feeling of adrenaline course through his veins, and he pounced, biting his lip to contain himself when he realized that they didn't even notice. With his new prisoner, he crept off.

It took a moment for Craig to realize that something was off.

Christophe had disappeared.

**Tadaa! I finally got them into the castle! Shit's gonna go down now :D **

**I'm pretty sure you all know who Christophe's captor is. It's HIM! **

**You'll know for sure who He is in the next chapter, which I will write soon.**

**I really need more reviews for you guys. Pwease...? *puppy dog eyes***

**Mmkay, that's all for now. Tell me what you think, and be sure to follow this story and favorite and crap!**


	7. Chapter 7 - Him

**Another chapter for you guys! Yay! Though this chapter is a bit of a filler-not really-I'm pretty proud of it. Be prepared-there is a lot of gore, madness, and blood ahead. And you'll finally know who He is!**

**Another quick thing: I capitalize Him when I'm talking about Him. (For example, I talk about Him's eyelashes, I'm going to write it as "His eyelashes," as oppose to "his eyelashes." **

**I hope I'm making sense here...**

Both of them whirled around, hoping to find that Christophe hadn't disappeared. But he was nowhere to be found.

"So much for sticking together." Craig muttered.

"We h-have to find him." Jimmy said. "Without him, we're a lost c-cause."

Craig nodded in agreement. They'd be done for if they lost the Traveler.

"Where could he have gone..." Craig said softly.

"I-I think someone must've t-taken him." Jimmy said. "There's n-no other explanation..."

Craig agreed. There was no way Christophe could've just left. He knew Christophe was a man of honor, and would stay true to his word. He couldn't have left them alone here.

Craig suddenly felt a pounding in his head. His hands flew to his head, where his old chullo had long since fallen off.

"Agh..." he mumbled. "Fucking headache..."

"I-I think it's this c-castle." Jimmy noted, wincing. Craig presumed he had a headache, too. "Now that the Traveler's g-gone, the madness of this place is going to s-slowly get to us. W-We should get T-Tweek as s-soon as p-possible."

Craig nodded, and then shivered as the sensation of being watched shocked through his spine. It felt way more intense than the forest, like the person was only inches behind him.

They continued down the hall silently, tensing at random occasions when they thought they heard a footstep or a light giggle.

The caped figure continued to creep behind them, His teeth biting His knuckles to the point where He felt the steam flow out. His right eye twitched violently as the aroma of warm, perfect flesh invaded his nose. He took a moment to inhale and continued to silently follow the tall boy and his crippled friend. He couldn't wait to destroy the pale, untouched skin.

Jimmy tried his best to silence his crutches. The rubber stops he had put on them before the journey had worn immensely, making every step sound like nails to a chalkboard. That did nothing to help the headache.

He thought of what tools he was going to use. He bit down harder.

Craig marveled at the amazing architecture of the castle. It was simple, but beautiful-the ceiling had a pattern of hearts on it, the shapes fitting together in a tessellation.

He reached forward. Success.

Craig realized that he didn't hear the nails-on-chalkboard sound anymore. It was a constant screech of metal against rock.

"Jimmy? JIMMY!" all he saw was a metal crutch turn round the corner of the hall. He ran as fast as he possibly could, just in time to see the door of one of the rooms slam shut.

He looked at the plaque.

Tea Room.

Craig took a deep breath, and entered.

The room was completely dark, albeit a few candles burning on what looked like a table. On the table were teapots, plates, and cups, thrown around like a child's playset. Some were cracked, and some looked like they had been sitting there for ages. What looked like people were sitting in chairs, and the eerie silence made Craig shiver again.

That same silence was broken by a high-pitched, airy laugh, and the sound of a muffled scream. Craig snuck quietly through the darkness. He could practically picture his knuckles blanching from his iron grip on the sword.

"Someone's here." said a quiet voice. It definitely didn't sound like Jimmy. "Let's greet our guest."

A bright light suddenly exploded into being, and Craig faltered, holding his hand over his forehead to try to lessen the sudden change in contrast. The light was fluorescent and looked like the type dentists use on their patients. Craig saw the outline of a person standing there, holding the light.

"Come be in my tea party...!" the voice mumbled. Though high-pitched, it was a male voice, and his words were slurred one moment and completely clear the next.

Craig said nothing, just stared painfully into the light as his eyes began to water. He didn't exactly know where to go from here.

"Don't be shy." it continued. "We have guests..."

The light shifted from right in Craig's face to the table. At first, Craig didn't really react. There were people sitting around the table, silent.

Then he realized.

On the plates in front of each "guest" lay red objects in peculiar shapes. It took a moment for Craig to take this in.

The "guests" weren't "guests" at all. They were bodies. Victims.

And on the plates lay their organs. Craig recognized a heart, a lung, and a trachea.

What kind of sick fuck would do shit like this? He knew that people were insane here, but seriously. Who would ever rip out organs and serve them on dinner plates?

"Your friend is here, too."

The light moved, and it reminded Craig of a Broadway show. Now, on to act Three.

There, sitting on the floor, ties up, was Jimmy.

"Wh..." Craig couldn't even form the words.

"He's having a lot of fun!" the voice giggled. "He told me that he really wanted you to come and join the party."

Craig had had enough. He swung at the dark shadow with his sword as hard as he could.

In an almost cat-like move, the figure jumped out of the way and darted into the shadow of another corner.

Jimmy didn't react. Craig realized that his friend had been knocked unconscious.

"Why is he tied up? Who are you?" the raven finally managed to speak, approaching the corner where the mysterious figure now stood, until he could see the outline of a face, concealed by darkness.

A single foot peeked out from the shadows and into Craig's vision. It was bare, and the skin was an unnatural shade of pink.

Then, a hand poked out from the shadows, along with the foot. The skin didn't match. The hand was a shade of milky white, but a small stream of black was coming out steadily.

He knew what that meant, and he grew more cautious.

The hand drew closer, until he realized it was touching his face. It was warm. Too warm.

In fact, it began to burn him. He felt his skin bubble and tried to pry the hand away, but it stayed, in a way glued to his face.

The figure finally-finally-stepped out to show himself. He was tall, about so much so as Craig. He was dressed in a black cloak, and underneath He sported a white shirt that was surprisingly in mint condition. His dress slacks were also perfectly pressed. He wore a black top hat with a red ribbon around it. Tucked behind the ribbon, there lay what looked like a black piece of paper. In one hand, He held a large butcher's knife that shone in the candlelight.

His face, however, was another story.

His eyes were two different colors-the left one being a pure white, and the other being a burgundy color. Around them were a couple scratches. His nose looked crooked, in a way, like He had cracked it too much.

That wasn't the worst part.

His lips were busted and looked like they had been pounded. Deep gashes slid from the corners of His mouth up to His temples. Craig saw that the gashes were loosely sewn together with what looked like string. Some of them were broken, revealing the ruined skin underneath. His smile was smeared with human blood, that Craig knew automatically wasn't His own.

Agony pierced through him as the blisters forming on his right cheek began to burst. He gasped in pain and buckled to his knees.

"You're getting weaker." the boy said, finally withdrawing his hand. "I can feel the madness starting to get to you."

Craig looked into the boy's eyes, refusing to give up. He had just gotten here, and he was already on the ground. But Craig knew He was right. The raven felt like his skull was going to break from all the thoughts and the almost impossibly painful migraine he was developing.

Before he could understand what was happening, He pulled out a rope and began to tie his wrists. Craig struggled as the scratchy fabric tickled his arms.

He backed away when he finished tying Craig up, and beamed, like a child who had just gotten praised. Craig glared and continued to struggle for a moment, but then realized it was no use. His sword had evaded him, and he sat on the floor next to an unconscious Jimmy.

He held up the knife. Craig braced himself, and waited for the blinding pain.

But there was none.

He looked up, mortified, and saw that He was digging the knife into His cheeks, deepening His Glasgow smile, and breaking the stitches that tried and failed to keep the pieces of skin together.

"Why..." Craig said, as He winced in pain, but appeared, still, to be smiling.

"He says I have to be happy." He whispered in reply. "And I am. I'm happy having tea parties. I'm happy being here. I'm happy having black smoke instead of blood..." He trailed off, and Craig felt a sense of despair radiating from him. He, like all the others in Wanderland, had no choice, and he had been driven into madness.

"You don't look it." Craig said, letting his stoicness overtake his thoughts for a moment.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asked childishly.

Craig nodded, even though the last thing he wanted to do right now was gossip.

"I don't like being me." He said, looking down at his feet. "I don't like having smoke as blood. I'm...jealous."

"Jealous." Craig repeated.

"You." He pointed at Craig and Jimmy. "You have red as blood. I have smoke. I want red. Red's my favorite color." he babbled. "I've been trying so hard to-to get red. So many tea parties...but nothing works."

Craig nodded. He felt like a psychologist analyzing some wackjob. Which was pretty much what he was doing-except for the fact that he was surrounded by dead bodies, and he was tied up and being held against his will.

"The King tells me to keep him safe." He continued. "He says people like you are too dangerous, and that madness keeps us alive."

How did that make any sense? Then again, nothing did here.

"I don't feel alive, Craig."

How did He know Craig's name? The raven wasn't sure.

"I feel used. I feel jealous. I feel tired. I just want to die." His voice caught, and Craig saw tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He began to laugh again, not the light kind that He did before, but a deep, forced laugh.

"I...can't...stop..." he said between peals of hysterical giggles. "He'll...make me..."

"Make you do what?"

"He promises that I'll get to stop..." He muttered. "If I don't stop."

What did Craig just hear? The King would let this kid stop killing...if he continued killing?

He looked at Craig expectantly, as if what He just said made perfect sense.

"Uh...yeah..." was all Craig could muster.

"So...so...I'm sorry." He murmured. "But I'll only be able to stop if I don't stop. I have to kill you now, Craig."

In that moment, Craig recognized Him. He recognized the black hair that swooped down, resting right on His eyelashes. He recognized the high-pitched voice.

But it was too late.

Too late to kill Him. Too late to try to escape. Too late to save Jimmy, or Tweek. Too late to find Christophe.

Damien's knife made its way into his neck, hilt deep.

**Yay! SO...MUCH...INSANITY...I LOVE IT!**

**If you don't know, I love writing insanity stuff.**

**For those of you who are reading Stripes and Belts-I'M GOING TO UPDATE IT! I have the ending chapter in mind, and it's going to be funny. **

**Also-I'm on Youtube! I'm doing an SP cosplay :D **

**I only have 2 videos up, but there are going to be more!I have literally zero subscribers, so I'd really appreciate it if you guys told me what you think... :/**

**So pleasepleaseplease look at that! (I'm gonna cosplay Craig, Christophe, and Damien, and there'll probably be more in the future :D)**

**Here's the link : channel/UCiOvZSmJJQdIC90GZnVdB4Q**

**But yeah, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Good news, too: I might do a sequel to this story. How, do you ask? You'll have to stay tuned to find out :D**

**Okay, see y'all later. ^_^**


	8. Chapter 8 - The Cat

**Hello my amazing people! Sorry for the long wait, I really took some time to think about this chapter. More good news-I started the next chapter of S and B, for those of you who are reading that ^_^**

**It's not done yet, but I'm doing my absolute best to get it to you all! DON'T LOSE FAITH IN ME!**

He awoke.

It took Craig a moment to look at his hands, to be sure that he really existed. After a moment of confirmation, he glanced around at where he was. Craig was alarmed when he realized that he was no longer in the Tea Room. The ground felt soft and grassy, and he saw the outlines of trees in the distance. All around him, there was silence. Nothing moved, nothing spoke, not even the breeze that usually ruffled the leaves of vegetation made a sound.

It felt empty.

Maybe this was what limbo felt like. Not being entirely dead, but not entirely alive. Or maybe-just maybe-he wasn't even in Wanderland at all, and this was all his subconscious playing tricks on him, making up a world to hide himself away in.

Both seemed perfectly plausible, in Craig's opinion.

Laughter. Another piece of evidence to solidify his hypotheses of what the hell was happening here.

The high-pitched giggling bounced back and forth nonstop in his skull, almost as if it were taunting him in some way. It was the same laughter as he had heard when he had fallen into this place-not as completely delirious as Damien's, but not exactly sane, either.

For as long as he had been in Wanderland, Craig never remembered having the laughter have any words to it, but then he heard.

Back in the day

When the mome raths outgrabe

Everything was happy and bright.

The he came along

And right was made wrong

And opposite, wrong was made right.

His good little sidekick

The one with the hat

Followed him wherever he went

His head was too thick

The King made sure of that,

And consequently, his mind was bent.

Along with the sidekick,

Many others were twisted

Into thinking they were the King's slaves

Wonderland had perished

But the King never missed it,

He dug innocent people's graves.

But then, the king realized

As he went on with his fun

That he had killed them inside

Killed them all. Every one.

He recognized that poem. It was the verse Clyde and Kevin told him and Jimmy in the clearing. Most of it made so much sense now. The "good little sidekick" was Damien. He had been twisted by the King into a bloodthirsty, tortured monster. He and Craig were linked, in a way-Damien simply a shadow of what Craig would soon become.

The pain in his head was so overwhelming that he didn't notice the enormous, sloppy gash made on his neck. Craig assumed that He put it there. He then realized what He could've done to Jimmy.

His friend could be dead right now. Tweek could be dead. Maybe even Token. Clyde. All of his friends could be gone, and he was trapped in some sort of in-between.

"You're not dead, you know."

Craig practically waved off the new, unheard voice that came from the darkness of the trees. He had heard so many lately, it was just getting old.

"Hello? Aren't you going to acknowledge me?"

Craig still didn't answer. He continued to lie down on the grass, trying to think about how he got here.

"Haha! Fine! Ignore me, then. I'm not going to help you get out of here if you ignore me!"

That caught his attention. He attempted to clear his throat-despite the slashed skin-and was surprised to hear that his larynx was intact.

"Help me out." Craig said. "Help me out. I just got stabbed by a sick fuck, and you want to 'help me out.'"

"Yes." said the voice. "I've been here the whole time, you know. Haha! I've been following you, ever since you got out of class."

Ah. So that explains the feeling of being watched, laughed at, and followed. It wasn't him going mad after all.

"Just...show yourself, or something!" Craig moaned. "If I don't get killed by the King, I'm gonna die of this migraine."

After he spoke, a small light caught his attention. The light wasn't a bright one, merely a slight glimmer in the sea of black that practically surrounded him. The small thing grew into a crescent-moon shape, almost like a smirk...with no owner. Then, two orbs stared down at him, creating a cartoonish sort of happy face.

"Happy?" asked the face.

"Very." Craig sighed, as he ran a hand through his now ratty hair. "Now, where the fuck am I?"

"Your subconscious." the smile said simply.

"And that makes sense." Craig replied stoically.

"Yes." the smile nodded. "You're still in the castle. You're still alive."

"Then...I got here because of..."

"Your madness." the smile finished his sentence as he trailed off. "It's overpowering you. You're dying, Craig."  
He hadn't thought of that theory. Dying from his own mind. Interesting.

"I can't die now." he said. "I have people to save."

"Right...the people..." the voice mumbled. "About that..."

"Oh, God." Craig sighed. "What happened to them?"

"Well, the cripple...he's kinda...fucked, man."

Did that mean what Craig thought it meant?

"So Jimmy's...mad?"

"Yep. But why the long face, dude? Haha! Being mad ain't that bad!"

Jimmy had turned completely insane, and all this guy had to say about it was that it wasn't that bad? If Craig were positive that this person was actually a person, he would've punched him in the face.

"What about Christophe." Craig demanded. "Is he alive?"

"Chris-who?"

"I mean...the Traveler. Is he alive?"

"Yeah, but barely." the voice muttered.

"Tweek."

"Same with him. Barely." the smile faltered. "You better hurry if you wanna save him."

"Where the fuck am I supposed to go?" Craig looked around him. There didn't seem to be any paths to follow.

"Think, Craig." said the voice in the trees. "Think about home. Think about your friends. Think about Tweek and how cute he is when he drinks coffee."

Craig hadn't remembered his life before Wanderland. Everything seemed to have faded away, like this world and his own didn't have any sort of connection whatsoever. His family, his friends, school-it all didn't seem important now. He had lost track of time.

But now, this whole thing had gotten out of control. It was fun to begin with, but now that his best friend was mad and his classmates were probably done for, too, this had all gotten personal.

What if he was too late? What if they had all somehow disappeared? What if he died here, and never got to see them again?

"Atta boy, Craig!" the voice encouraged. "Keep thinking."

What if his family had all died in Wanderland, too? What if he was the only one left alive? Or worse, the only one left...sane?

Craig didn't notice that his surroundings had begun to fade away.

"Keep it up! You're doing great, dude! Haha!"

All the questions running through Craig's head proved to be too much. He felt his mind split, and felt the connections he had with himself break and rebuild again, all in a stunning array of color that occupied his vision.

"THINK OF HOME, CRAIG! HOME SWEET HOME! HAHAHA!" the smile's voice sounded more distant now, but it still seemed present, as if it were with him, deep inside him.

Craig felt tears run down his cheeks. He was sick of this. He didn't want to risk his life. He didn't want to play this game anymore.

He wanted to go home.

As he thought, Craig didn't notice that the world around him faded to white nothingness, and then faded back into the Tea Room. He continued to cry, his hands covering his now tear-stained face.

His voice got Craig's attention.

"You're...you're alive!"

Damien looked over at him innocently-well, as innocently as an insane boy with a Glasgow smile could-his red eye glinting and his white eye staring at nothing in particular. Craig figured that Damien's eyes meant something-those who were overcome by madness usually had two white eyes, but Damien only had one. That had to mean something.

That had to mean that Damien still had some sort of character, trapped inside him.

"Oh no! He's going to be so angry...he's going to lose his temper on me!" He whispered urgently, His eyes rolling back into his head for a brief moment before returning to their normal stance.

Craig was trying, really trying, to think up a plan for this. A plan to get Tweek, find Christophe, and save Damien. He had a lot on his plate. Any logic seemed impossible here. Every time he came up with something, a conflict blocked victory, and he had to start over.

Christophe would know a way out of this. Christophe would be able to get him out of this mess. The guy was a fucking genius. He decided that finding The Traveler was his first priority.

Though Craig didn't have a plan, he did have one thing to his advantage: Damien's mental state.

"Hey." Craig muttered towards the boy, who was giggling over the organs on the table and putting them up to the mouths of the "guests," pretending to make them "eat."

The high-pitched giggle showed Craig that he was acknowledged.

"Where's Jimmy?"

"Jimmy had to leave my party early. He was late, so they took him away." Damien said, pointing to the door.

"Can...can I go see him?" Craig asked tentatively, hoping that the boy's muddled brain wouldn't be able to tell what he was trying to pull.

"I want you to stay, though." the boy pouted, and then sighed and laughed again. "Oh, well. I guess the guests can wait a minute or two."

Damien yanked Craig's tied up hands and began sawing them undone, humming an unintelligible tune as he did so.

Craig was free. Now that He was leading him to Jimmy, maybe his crippled friend could tell him where Christophe was.

Damien led him down the hall, skipping as he went, clutching Craig's hand in his own. Craig tried to keep up, and tried to ignore the passerby that flinched as Damien went down the hall. Craig began to wonder-what was it like to be that batshit crazy? What was it like to have no morals, no sense between right and wrong?

He supposed he'd find out soon enough, if he continued talking to Damien.

He could feel a small laugh escape his mouth. It was actually fun skipping down the spacious castle hallway, believe it or not. He felt like he was flying.

Craig jolted, trying to get the distant, irrelevant thoughts out of his head. He had to stay focused on his mental state.

They reached a turn in the hallway, and Damien practically flew to the left, dragging Craig behind him. Craig knew he could let go of Damien's hand, but he didn't. It didn't feel menacing or evil in any way. It was just a hand, wasn't it?

Just a hand.

Snap out of it! Craig thought. Get your ass in line!

Sure enough, they finally stopped in front of what looked like a staircase, leading into darkness. Damien walked down, jumping over every few steps.

"Dooooo-doooo." he babbled. "A friend is here to see you."

At the bottom of the staircase was a small cell. Jimmy was in its corner, shaking violently, in fetal position. He was whispering phrases, his voice soft and barely there.

"Go away, you monster." Craig was surprised to hear the cripple's voice without a stutter. It sounded different. Much different.

"Jimmy, it's me." Craig spoke up, quietly, walking up to the cell and grabbing the bars. Just as he did, Damien grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. Craig winced as the fabric dug into his already injured neck, which had somehow healed in the process of returning from his subconscious.

"Craig?" the boy said, not moving from his current position. Craig nodded, and then felt stupid, knowing that Jimmy couldn't see him.

"Yeah..." Craig's voice grew quiet. "Do you...know where Christophe is?"

Damien said nothing. He was muttering to himself. Something about how the King was going to kill him for being late.

"The hat, Craig. He's in the hat..." was all Jimmy said before he erupted into a fit of hysterical crying and laughter. The raven knew that JImmy was gone, at that moment. His heart sunk, but there was nothing he could do. The thought of turning out like Jimmy made him shudder.

"You're looking for the pretty butterfly, aren't you?" Damien said, not bothering to look at Craig. He was facing the staircase. From behind, he looked like a normal, perhaps oddly-dressed boy. If only...

"You want to find the pretty butterfly? I have the pretty butterfly. I love catching butterflies." He said, walking up the stairs. As Craig followed, Damien picked up the pace-until he ran down the hall, back towards the tea room.

Thanks to Craig's long legs, he was able to catch up with Damien some, but he could feel himself sweating nonetheless. Damien didn't even show any signs of exhaustion. He sat in the corner of the Tea Room, as if he had walked the whole way there.

"Can I see the butterfly, please? I'm..." Craig paused to giggle. "I'm...fascinated by your collection."

"This one's my favorite!" He said, the corners of his mouth turning up into a grin. Craig sat down beside him gingerly, his muscles tense in case escape was necessary.

Damien took off his top hat, laying it carefully on the floor of the room. Slowly, he rotated it around until he found the black piece of paper that was tucked into the red ribbon.

He pulled on it as hard as he could. The silky fabric tore.

Craig then realized. This wasn't fabric at all. He recognized the blue spots. He reached for his sword.

Craig sliced off Damien's hand, grabbed Christophe's fragile body, and ran.

"'ATTA BOY, CRAIG!" the smile that was hiding on the ceiling of the Tea Room hollered.

**I am the queen of cliffhangers! HAHAHA! **

**You guys didn't think that tiny detail I put in about the black paper in Damien's hat was useful information, but it really is! I LOVE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS :D**

**Okay, I'm probably going insane from this story...oh well :3**

**Love you guys!**


	9. Chapter 9 - The King

**Crap, I'm getting lazy with updating. It's okay, though, cause I worked EXTREMELY hard on this chapter! I'm pretty sure it was one of my best-made chapters for anything, really.** **Brace yourselves. There's a bit of extreme creepiness at the end with...people. This thing is the scariest thing I've ever written. No joke. This chapter introduces you to a few more important people, so yay. :D**

Craig heard the sound of a shrill, high-pitched scream as he bolted out the door, then footsteps following him. Frantically, he searched for a place to hide. He then found the room that read Broom Closet and entered, scrambling to lock the door as the footsteps caught up to him.

He put Christophe on the floor gently, looking down on him, hoping that he would flash back to life. He never really liked the Frenchman much. Though they shared the same cynical nature, he never felt any other sort of connection to Christophe.

"Come on, come on..." Craig mumbled to the insect. The tear was a big one, extending from the edge of the Traveler's wing almost to his small abdomen. Slowly, light began to glow, and the butterfly expanded to the size of a teenage boy. Craig sighed in relief, but then his mouth went dry. Christophe was curled up into a ball, his right arm bent up at an angle. Craig knew that it was broken.

The French boy's eyes were squeezed shut in pain.

"Get me..." Christophe whispered weakly. Craig knew what he wanted. He reached into Christophe's suit pocket and dug out the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed it in the brunette's mouth and lit it up. Christophe took a long drag and sat up rather clumsily, due to his injury. He winced in pain as pressure was applied on his arm.

"Ah, zat's better." Christophe's mouth turned upwards into a sneer as he grew calmer from the false sense of security the cigarette gave off.

"He really fucked up your arm, didn't he?" Craig looked at Christophe's arm. Though he wasn't bleeding, it was twisted in a way he didn't think was humanly possible.

"Oui. C'est pas grave." he muttered in French.

"You can heal it, right? Like you healed Jimmy and I."

"Not anymore." Christophe sighed. "Zis place ees takeeng all my power away. I'm slowly goeeng eensane, like you."

At the mention of the word "insane," Craig let out a very loud, very unintentional giggle. Shortly afterward, he heard pounding from the door.

"Come back, pretty butterfly! I wanted you to have some tea!" His voice wailed from behind the seemingly paper-thin piece of wood that separated Craig and Christophe from total madness.

Craig was about to say something, but Christophe's large, calloused hand covered his mouth before he could say anything.

"Let me in! Please! He's...he's looking for you!" Damien continued. Craig raised an eyebrow. Did Damien mean what Craig thought he meant?

"Just, please! Maybe...maybe the blond one can be saved..." the voice behind the door grew quieter. Craig pried Christophe's hand off of his mouth, but didn't say anything. He didn't know if it was his craziness taking over, or if some sort of spell had been cast upon him. His instincts were screaming at him not to move, but he didn't listen.

He unlocked the door, and it opened. Christophe stood up and looked at Damien. Though Damien was taller, Christophe had much more muscle and general mass than he did. Craig and the Traveler headed for the door, but Damien blocked their path, black steam flowing out of the injury Craig had just inflicted. His eyes were glazed over in pain, and he winced as more and more of the stuff poured out of him. The butcher's knife made its way back to his cheeks, digging in and making his smile deeper. Christophe looked at him in disgust.

"You're not just a pretty butterfly." Damien broke the silence, laughing. "You're a gorgeous butterfly."

"You're not you anymore." Christophe whispered. "You've been brainwashed. Look at what you 'ave become. You never wanted zis."

"No!" Damien retorted. "I love the way he's made me! I love the way he makes me do this! I love black steam..."

Craig knew he was lying. He remembered Damien saying that he wanted red. That red was his favorite color.

"Look. I'm smiling! I'm happy!" he shouted almost hysterically, stepping a bit too close to Christophe to show him his "smile." Christophe shoved him away. Before he could do anything too drastic, Craig stepped in between the two boys.

"Take us to him." he said as calmly as he could, his eye twitching from the effort it took to contain himself.

Damien somehow knew what he was talking about and stepped out, walking down to a door that read Throne Room. The door was more elaborate and flashy than the others, and much, much larger. Damien pushed it open with ease.

Inside was a room Craig would never imagine to be that of a king. The walls were grimy and an unflattering shade of gray, and the ceiling was very high up. Surrounding the throne itself were many pews, almost like a church. Only two people sat on the front pew, the back of their heads both the same blondish color.

However, Craig's attention was more focused on the enormous throne that sat in the front and center of the room. It looked out of place with the damp, almost moldy walls behind it. The throne itself looked luxurious, with red velvet lining and delicate-looking patterns etched into the arms and around the brim.

Sitting in the regal chair was a short, fat man which, in Craig's opinion, would never be described as a "king" if they weren't in Wanderland. His round head was spotless and clean, almost like a baby's. He was dressed in unflattering purple pants and a white shirt on which the buttons seemed to be on the verge of popping. The man's pig-like eyes seemed to be peering straight at Craig, and the tall, lanky boy felt himself shudder.

This was him. The King. This man-this short, chubby man that looked absolutely harmless-was responsible for turning everyone in Wanderland into a deformed monstrosity.

He hated him immediately.

"Hello, there!" his voice reverberated off the walls, causing one of the two blonds in the front pew to flinch. "Do we have another straggler?"

Damien, who seemed to be in a world of his own, did not answer. Craig kept his mouth shut, even though he knew that a heroic statement would be extremely fitting at the moment.

The King looked at Damien quizzically until a sly grin spread across his face.

"You will LISTEN to me when I'm TALKING TO YOU!" he bellowed. As soon as the words left his mouth, Damien fell to the ground, shaking.

That wasn't the right word to describe his erratic movements. He seemed to be...twitching.

Christophe was the next to speak, glaring at the King with blazing eyes.

"Why ze fuck deed you electrocute 'im?"

The King shrugged. "He wasn't listening."

Christophe scoffed. "Eet's because you've turned 'im eento an ANIMAL, you bastard! 'E can't even zink straight after what you've done!"

Damien stumbled back up, still without a sound. He walked up slowly to the King's throne and bowed his head.

"I have brought him to you. He has been trying to interfere with the execution." Damien said softly, without a giggle. This was getting strange.

The blond at the pew twitched again. Craig didn't notice.

"You there. Come here." The King pointed to Craig, and motioned for him to come closer. The boy's feet felt like anvils as he dragged himself forward.

Up close, the King looked way worse than he did at the front of the hall. His skin was an unhealthy yellowish shade, and his brown hair fell in a greasy mop over his overplucked eyebrows. Though he looked young in the first place, Craig realized that the King was actually not much older than he was, judging by his boyish features. He looked almost like a gigantic egg.

"Explain yourself!" the King barked.

Craig didn't know what to say. He looked over at Christophe for some sort of reassurance, but the Frenchman gave none. He was standing still, looking at his shoes. Craig took a deep breath.

"You took him, and I wanted him back."

The fat man raised one of his almost nonexistent brows. "I take a lot of people. Care to go into more detail?"

"You took Tweek. He was one of the only ones left relatively sane, and now you're going to torture him. I came to get him out of here." Craig tried again. So much for an elaborate plan.

"Oh, kid." the King chuckled. It sounded forced and unnatural. "That's how life works here. The King giveth and-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the blond that had been twitching made a muffled squeaking sound of protest. Craig turned to look at the boy, then did a double take.

Tweek sat in the front pew, his arms wrapped around his own body. He looked to be hugging himself.

But he was struggling. He was fighting against himself. Which could only mean one thing.

A straitjacket.

Craig ran towards his blond friend, eager to embrace him. It was silly, thinking that, despite the fact that he had to get his friends out of there before they all got killed, a hug was the one thing Craig wanted at the moment.

But Tweek just stared at him, a pained expression on his face. Craig looked into his eyes. One of the brown orbs was getting clouded by white, almost like a cataract. Tweek hadn't gone insane yet. The other blond boy sat there, looking up at Craig with two white eyes, a sad smile on his face. For some reason, that blond seemed to be less dangerous. He was dressed in a blue sort of apron thing, like a nurse's scrubs.

The King pressed two fingers to his lips, letting Craig and Tweek have a moment.

A smile that seemed too big for Craig's face slid onto his lips. He could feel the corners of his mouth stretching so much that it pained him. He tried to remove the grin, only finding that he couldn't.

"Tweek, I'm so glad they didn't kill you yet." Craig wrapped his arms around the blond in an embrace, even though the other boy couldn't hug him back in the straitjacket.

Tweek made another odd noise. Craig broke away, wondering what it was.

His friend stared into his eyes sadly, trying to form the words but failing. It was then that Craig saw it.

The stitches.

Tweek's mouth had been sewn shut.

Craig's focus automatically turned to the blond in scrubs.

"Oh, yes." The King laughed. "Did you meet our new Doctor? He's been helping me out with a few...improvements lately."

"You did this, didn't you, Doctor? HE told you to do this." the raven growled. The doctor boy sighed quietly and nodded. Craig examined the stitches once more. They seemed to be more well-done than Damien's, and in a different fabric, too. Craig assumed Damien had done his own stitching.

"Don't be silly." The King interrupted. "I didn't say ANYTHING. He wanted to do it."

Tweek's already tear-stained face became damp with more droplets of salty water. He shook his head and made a sort of gurgling sound. The Doctor winced, but then stood up straight as the King whirled around toward him.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" he murmured.

"N-nothing. Everything is fine."

"Good, good." The King smiled. "Get the executioners."

Craig felt the color drain out of his face.

The Doctor nodded and ran off. Christophe was shoved as the small man passed through.

Though there were no guards, Craig knew how powerful the King was, so he took a seat on a pew.

"Who said you could sit down?! VISITORS STAND IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING!" the fat boy hollered. Craig shuddered and stood up again.

"Very good." the King's voice returned to its sickly-sweet tone. It chilled Craig's bones dry.

"Now, let me explain what I'm going to do with you all. Traveler, come here."

Christophe complied.

"Okay, you." the King pointed to Tweek. "You are going back to where you were a moment ago. The executioners will escort you."

Tweed nodded sadly, looking down at the floor.

"You." The King pointed to Damien. "Come with me. I'm going to mend up that nasty injury of yours and look over your video footage."

In that moment, Craig noticed a very small thing. Damien's red eye was drifting in and out of focus as The King spoke of him. The pupils dilated and then shrunk again.

Like the zoom on a camera lens.

So that's what the red eye was for.

"Traveler." the chubby finger was now in Christophe's direction. "You're going with The Doctor to get your powers fixed and your camera installed."

Christophe's fists clenched and he began to growl in an almost animalistic way as The King spoke.

"Oh, don't be angry. That's my job." he chuckled darkly. "Only the best get cameras."

Craig piped up. "What about me?"

"Ah, yes. Well, you're going with your little boyfriend here. To the Torture Chamber. The executioners are going to have some fun with you there, I can guarantee that."

Craig didn't even want to know the meaning of "fun" anymore.

Their attention was jogged by the door opening again.

Craig recognized the head poking out from behind the door. The brown hair and rather round face. His once best friend that had gone rogue.

It was Clyde.

The brunette turned at an odd angle to enter the room. Craig found this odd. He knew that his friend had a stocky build, but did he really have to turn around? The door was rather wide.

"Sir." Clyde's voice rang through the room. "We're at your service."

We're? That was plural. Had Clyde gone so crazy that he had made a grammatical error? Did that ever happen before?

Then Craig saw. He had never, in his entire life, had seen something as disturbing. This was even worse than Damien's "smile."

Though they were neatly sewn, the body slumped off of its counterpart, dragging across the floor. With every step, the brown-haired one winced in pain as the stitches pulled. A small stream of black smoke was coming from one of the stitches that had popped from the dead weight. One arm and one leg followed the other limbs that were still intact. The head lolled backwards, the lifeless eyes rolling back along with it.

"It's great to see you two again!" The King boomed. Craig couldn't believe the nonchalance of it all. The fat boy was acting as if there wasn't a monster in front of him.

"Likewise." Clyde murmured.

"Are you still liking the new body?" he asked.

"Well, it's really heavy and..."

"Wrong answer."

A moment later, and the large mass of limbs crumpled to the floor, both bodies twitching violently.

"No! No! We...love it!" Clyde screamed in pain.

"Good boy." the King said, continuing with his game. This time, not only were the two boys completely normal, they were animals. Dogs. "Now, I'll go over your footage later. For now, take these two back to the Chamber."

Clyde nodded and slowly stalked over to Craig, grabbing his arm roughly and pulling it toward a door to the right. Tweek followed without protest. Craig glanced back to stare at Christophe and Damien one last time before the door closed**.**

**I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Dialogue always seems to be a challenge for me. I don't know why...**

**Also, I didn't put the names of the characters that The King and The Doctor are representing. Send me your predictions through a review or a PM. Another quick thing-if you guys don't know what the fuck is up with Clyde, just PM me and I'll tell you. **

**Be sure to review, favorite, and follow this story! Though the end of this story is drawing nearer, I'm going to be making a prequel to it, I think, when I finish it. :3**

**Okay, this is getting long, so I'll just say I love you and get out of here ^0^**


	10. Chapter 10 - Water Drops

**Sorry this took so long! I spent a long, long time on this chapter, just trying to think of what to do. I've also been drafting stuff for the prequel's first chapter, and the whole plot of that story. Plus, it's the end of the school year and I've got a shitload of stuff to think about, so I'm really sorry about that. Once school gets out, though, I'll be able to update** **more.**

**Unless I decide otherwise, I think the next chapter is going to be the last chapter of this story. I'll get started with the prequel as soon as I can. I really want to extend on this story. it's been the most complex and craziest thing I've ever written, ever.**

**Enjoy Chapter 10!**

The two of them were roughly pushed into a small, cramped cell that reeked of mold. There was nothing in the cell, albeit two stone cots that had been propped up on the walls. There were worn leather buckles on the sides of the cots. Craig knew that this wasn't out of the ordinary for Wanderland citizens.

Clyde dragged himself slowly over to Craig first. He methodically buckled Craig's wrists and ankles to the cot. The raven opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out except a small giggle. Even though the leather was pressing into his skin painfully, he couldn't do anything but laugh. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

When he opened them, Clyde had moved on to strapping Tweek in, leaving Craig face-to-face with the dead body. He stared into Kevin's lifeless eyes, feeling about as alive as the latter. He tried to imagine what it must have felt like to undergo an operation as bad and as sick as the one these two had to go through. He assumed that anesthesia wasn't used at any point in the operation, if the King had been in charge of it. He thought of the pain-Clyde's eyes glazing over in agony, horrid, blood-curdling screams, or desperate whimpers, escaping from his mouth, the black smoke pouring into other hallways from the operating table, the King meanwhile laughing at what he could hear from the throne room, the stitches popping and having to be sewn into the now ruined flesh again.

Craig giggled.

Tweek looked at him, a quizzical look in his eyes. Then again, Tweek always looked like he was questioning what you were thinking, because he couldn't speak for himself.

Craig ignored him, and looked over to see what Clyde was going to do next.

The brunette was hauling his massive body out of the room, returning several minutes later with two menacing-looking round metal objects. He clumsily put the metal object over Craig's head. Craig realized that this thing was a brace to keep himself in place. He knew some sort of torture was coming. He laughed again.

Again, Clyde did the same to Tweek, who protested. He must have undergone this torture before. He wondered how bad it really was.

Clyde waited patiently until Tweek had given up to strap him in, not saying a word. He hadn't spoken this whole time. It must've been either too much effort with the mass of a body hanging off his own, or else the King had ordered him not to. Craig waited for pain, but none came. Instead, a drop of water landed smack-dab in the middle of his forehead. He flinched, but otherwise did nothing. Another drop splashed down onto his head. His eyes flickered over to Tweek's, whose own were squeezed shut tightly. His whole body shook as another drop fell onto his head. Was the torture going to start, or what?

A muffled scream was heard coming from the inside Tweek's sealed mouth.

With that, Craig then realized. The drops of water were the torture. He was surprised. He expected the torture to be painful and bloody, not like this. In what way was this going to torture him? He didn't know.

Minutes passed. Then hours. The water kept on coming down methodically, a fat, round drop every few seconds. In the time that had passed, Craig had grown antsy and insecure, wanting to move his head to evade the water, but not being able to because of the brace that adorned it. He had to deal with the liquid interrupting his thoughts every moment, not being able to think validly. Craig realized that he much rather had had painful, bloody torture than this. This was hell.

Clyde seemed to know this, because he saw that Craig had been fidgeting and walked over.

His voice came in a breathy, labored whisper.

"You were expecting something better, weren't you?"

Craig tried to respond, but he screamed as another drop fell. Soon, more drops began to fall from his own eyes, stinging his cheeks to the point where he felt them burn.

"You wish you had been stretched. Twisted. Torn apart. Operated on. Well, let me tell you something."

Craig clenched his teeth, trying to stifle another cry.

"I wish I were you right now. I wish I didn't have my best friend sewn to me. I wish I didn't have to drag him around. I wish the King gave me what he gave you-water torture. Harmless, innocent water torture. Except it's not. It's horrible, isn't it?"

"I can't...think...anymore..." Craig managed to choke out between drops of water.

"You're lucky he chose this kind. He used it especially for that purpose, you know."

He raised his eyebrows. "Wh-what?"  
"It's true." Clyde said quietly. "Let me let you in on a little secret. The King told me that, if he found you, he'd want to use water torture on you specifically, to drive you insane faster. He wants you to be a part of this place."

Did that mean what Craig thought it meant?

"He's seen you take on my friend and me. He's seen you find the Traveler. He's seen you do everything. He's been waiting for you to get here. Tweek was only bait."

He paused to let out a giggle, then continued.

"He knew you wouldn't come here of your own accord, so he took Tweek to lure you in. Tweek actually put up more of a fight than we thought, so we had to keep him under control until you got here. You were late, you know."

"So...so he thinks I need to...become...his..." Craig trailed off, unable to finish.

"He wants you to be like one of us." Clyde finished for him. "He really thinks you have potential."

"N-No..." Craig protested. "J-Just h-have him kill me off..."

"Not a chance." Clyde chuckled weakly, cringing. "We're going to make you two perfect. We're going to make you both even more powerful. The Doctor works wonders, you know. Just look at us."

Craig wasn't sure if Clyde was being sarcastic at that moment, or completely insane, but he knew that he'd rather die than become a slave to that wretched King.

The Traveler kicked, shoved, and tried any method of escape. He wasn't going to that operating table without a fight. The butterfly was never one to talk out resolutions, more of the type to obtain them by force. The Doctor, in turn, said nothing, and continued to drag The Traveler by the wrist down the grimy gray hallway. The walls of the hall were dirty and stained with who-knew-what. The Traveler grimaced.

A small light grew brighter as the walked down the seemingly endless hallway, until they stood right in front of it. The light burned The Traveler's eyes. He wanted so desperately to flash into his insect form, but neither his body nor mind would agree to do so. He knew what that meant.

The Doctor, unfazed by the other's reaction to the light, pulled The Traveler into the room. It, unlike all the others, wasn't as dirty. There lay a normal-looking operating table in the center of the room, with the only light in the room shining directly upon it. It made for a very creepy atmosphere. The Traveler noticed that, behind the table, there were cabinets, probably filled with all sorts of instruments of torture. The Doctor led The Traveler to the table, and shoved him harshly onto it. The Traveler never expected that much power ever to come from such a small person.

"Stay still." his soft voice demanded as he focused on strapping The Traveler's wrists to the sides of the table. After that was done, he left for a moment, presumably to get his operating instruments. When he returned, the Frenchman managed to look at what The Doctor had on the small tray he carried with him. There lay a needle and thread, a rather rusty-looking knife, a round red object, and a stack of shadowy objects that he couldn't see.

"You really are an insect, huh? Well, now you're going to look like one." The Doctor murmured, looking down at his patient with an almost apologetic stare.

The Traveler felt his suit jacket get sliced off by the knife, along with his shirt. The Doctor moved closer, closer, closer to his face, until they stared into each other's eyes. The only difference was that the blond was armed, and the brunette wasn't.

Without warning, Christophe's left eye was blinded. He felt his mouth open, but he couldn't hear the ear-shattering scream that came from it. What really intimidated him was the fact that, in his mind, he felt nothing. Nothing but numbness. His body was reacting to the pain, but his brain wasn't.

The Doctor grabbed the red object from the tray and held it up to Christophe's good eye.

"This is your video camera." he said calmly. Christophe had to admit-this boy seemed less crazy than everyone else here, but he knew he was kidding himself at the thought.

As quickly as it had disappeared, the sight in his left eye was regained. Something didn't feel right, though. It felt as if there were something watching his every move now. Someone that saw what he saw.

He knew the King could see everything.

Next, The Doctor grabbed the stack of shadowy objects and the needle and thread. Christophe didn't react to the needle digging into his skin. He didn't even notice.

Nor did he notice the black smoke that had begun to fill the room.

Craig watched as the Executioner-or, should he say, Executioners-left he and Tweek alone. He wanted to tell Tweek that everything would end soon, but he knew it'd all be a lie. Tweek's eyes were almost the signature perfect white that made a person insane. At least they didn't have video cameras.

Yet.

Craig began to wonder-what "surgery" was he going to have? Tweek had already gotten his mouth sewn shut. Clyde had gotten his shoulder and arm cut off, having the rest of himself sewn to a dead body. Craig automatically felt bad for killing Kevin. Clyde had no one to help him get around.

Then, Craig realized. What about Damien? He hadn't gotten operated on, had he? He had the "smile," but Craig knew that he made that one himself. What could The Doctor have done to alter him?

Maybe he was messed up enough, Craig thought. Maybe he was already crazy enough as he was, and the King didn't want to waste his time with "improvements."

And what about his "subconscious?" That face that had told him to think of home? It felt so familiar now, like he had known that face for his whole life. Maybe he did. He wanted to meet that face, to talk to it again, see if it could help him again. He needed it now. He needed some kind of condolence. Craig felt another water droplet fall, and the corner of his mouth turn upwards.

"Did someone need me?" He barely heard the voice before realizing whose it was.

"Dude! Over here! Haha!" Craig shifted his gaze over to where the voice came from. Tweek stared upward at the ceiling, lost in himself.

Standing in the middle of the room was a face Craig never would've liked to see until now.

His blond hair was tousled and his toothy grin was almost blinding. Though both his eyes were shining white, they held feeling, a sense of permanent amusement. He was dressed in jeans and an orange hoodie. Kenny hadn't changed since when they sat in the classroom, aside from the eyes.

"Damn, Craig!" he laughed. "You look like shit, man."

Craig was speechless at first, but, at the comment, he frowned. For some reason, he took that comment to heart. He knew he looked bad. He thought that Kenny looked bad. Who was he to judge if Craig looked bad? Craig had been through more than ever today, and this kid wasn't helping at all. With that smirk on his face, he just wanted to pull it off.

"Oh, shit. Wait, you've gone crazy, right? Sorry, dude. Didn't mean it." he said, walking closer to the raven to get a better look at him.

"Are you...?" Craig whispered.

"Yeah, I'm the guy you saw earlier." Kenny nodded. "And I'm insane, too, so it's all good."

"Then...why...?"

"Why am I not all fucked up?" Kenny asked. Craig felt a growl rise in his throat, but he nodded.

"I'm okay, because the King already dealt with me."

Craig lifted an eyebrow.

"Look, he drove me crazy and killed me, okay? But, since I can't ever fucking die..." he paused to groan. "I came back. The King didn't think I was 'smart' enough to give me a camera and all that shit, so he just killed me off. He doesn't know that I'm back, though."

Craig felt himself start to understand.

"But, seriously, dude, have you looked at yourself?" Kenny scoffed, eyeing Craig sympathetically.

"T-tell me...are my eyes...?" Craig trailed off.

Kenny seemed to know what Craig meant, and peered into his eyes. "Yeah, dude, you're pretty much there. Soon enough, the world's gonna start twisting around for you and shit. You're gonna be full-fledged batshit crazy soon, dude."

"What about Tweek?" he asked.

"He's done for, I think." Kenny sighed. "He's pretty zoned out right now. Like I was when I got water torture."

"K-Kenny...do you know...what the D-Doctor guy...what he's gonna do...to me?" Craig choked out, screaming as a drop of water hit his head.

"I've seen the plans he and the King are making. They want to do something pretty drastic." he cringed, but it still looked like a smile to Craig.

"Wh-what? Like the-the Executioners?" he stammered, hoping that he wouldn't have to endure that. The fact that The Doctor could do something that morally wrong made Craig nauseous.

"Oh, no." Kenny shook his head. "Not something like that. That would be a retarded idea, because they know you're meant for speed."

Craig narrowed his eyes, waiting for Kenny to continue.

"They've seen you kill off their guards earlier." he noted. "They know you're damn good with a sword and that you run fast. The plan for them is to replace your arms with swords and sew your mouth shut, since they think you ask too many questions." Kenny laughed at the last part.

Craig ignored him. "Jimmy...?" he breathed.

"Oh yeah! The crippled guy that was downstairs. Well, the King doesn't think he'd be a good addition to the team, so they're probably just going to kill him off and take his arms."

"His...arms."

"Yeah, they're going to use them for some big project they were doing. They were talking a lot about insects. I didn't catch much of it."

Even in this stage in the progression of losing his mind, Craig knew exactly what was going to happen to Christophe in that operating room.

The last stitch finally was put into place, but Christophe felt nothing, still. He felt like his mind and his body were seperate people now. Like he was staring down at himself, in an outer-body experience.

The Doctor finally pulled away from The Traveler's side, finished with his work.

"You're finished, Traveler." he said, smiling sadly down at his work. "Stand up and look in the mirror."

Christophe shakily stood, trying to balance himself. He felt more weighed down, but not as if there were something hanging off him. He ruled out being sewn to another person. That wasn't the case.

The mirror was cracked, but when he saw himself, he didn't know what to say.

Christophe's face looked the same, one of his hazel eyes now replaced by a red one. His bare chest was also the same. It was what came off of it that fascinated him.

Right where his ribs were, he had a second pair of arms. These two looked thinner and weaker than his original, muscular ones. The pale skin contrasted with his olive tan. Right above his waist, he had a third pair. These two looked different in color, but they had generally identical structure.

"We wanted you to be an insect, inside and out." The Doctor said softly. "We wanted to expose you for what you are. Nothing but an insect."

The cold words were shocking, but Christophe ignored them. He tried to move one of the fingers on his left side. It moved normally, like any normal pair of arms would.

"We tried to be efficient. The thin ones are courtesy of the boy downstairs."

Christophe tried to remember, his mind clouded with new, irrelevant thoughts. He vaguely remembered a boy with weak arms and crutches, but decided that that wasn't important.

"The last two are from the Executioners. They each needed one arm amputated. We kept them specifically for you."

Christophe marveled at how good a job The Doctor had done. He didn't think of how much pain he was in right now. He didn't think about Craig.

His pristine white eyes glimmered with nothing but madness.

**Yay! I did it! I finished this chapter! Woot woot!**

**I really like The Doctor for some reason. And what about Kenny, hmm? Isn't he fabulous? **

**Well, there's nothing you can really predict now, but I really, really love your feedback, so please try to review! Okay, I'm gonna go be happy now. Till next chapter! :D**


	11. Chapter 11 - The Beginning of the End

**I'm really, really sorry this took so long! I put a crap-load of thought into this last chapter, and I liked how it turned out. I usually suck at endings, so please forgive me if it**'**s crap. Here we go. The last chapter of this story. Prepare for a lot of black smoke. LET'S DO THIS!**

Craig's vision was hazy, but he saw the large, ugly shape of the Executioners walking into the room. He felt nothing as they unstrapped him from the head brace. Craig's neck gave and his chin hit his chest in exhaustion. He could practically feel his forehead start to mold away. Craig panicked. What if his skin had completely rotted, leaving what was underneath exposed? For some reason, it seemed morally wrong for his bones to be showed to everyone. It didn't seem decent.

The Executioners were followed by a very, very large, shaking mass of who-knew-what. The shadowy thing contorted into different forms painfully, but the only sound that came from it was a baritone chuckle. Craig recognized the low voice, but didn't give it any thought. He was more focused on how well the Executioners were stitched together, wondering if he would get the same treatment. Getting blades as arms seemed painful, but at the same time, desirable. He felt almost flattered that the King would find him, of all people, good with a sword. So good, that he was actually going to permanently give him swords as arms. How cool would that be? Being able to slice through anything and anyone. Having that much power made Craig think about how little he wanted to fight the King. But a vague thought crossed his mind. He had come here to save his friend. Why was he thinking about all this?

Craig pushed the thought away. It didn't seem relevant or important. The Executioners took his hand and led him back towards the Throne Room. The large being took Tweek, standing beside him. The walk was silent, albeit a few rogue giggles from Craig.

When they entered the room, The Doctor stood, talking to the King nonchalantly. Standing beside the King was Damien, looking shook up. His hair was messy and his pale face seemed bruised.

"Your Majesty..." The Doctor began, gesturing to the doorway where Craig, Tweek, the Executioners, and the odd shape stood.

"TRAVELER! GET OUT HERE SO I CAN SEE YOU." The King barked. The Doctor and Damien both flinched. Craig recognized the name "Traveler" from someplace, but he didn't remember where from. He decided to ignore that thought, too.

The large mass moved into the light, and Craig was astounded. The boy he knew before the torture had four more arms that moved as his own did, fully functioning. Unfortunately, Craig couldn't get a very good look, as the Traveler was convulsing and laughing in a strained voice.

"Doctor...it's beautiful. Exactly how I wanted it. Perfect, as usual."

Craig didn't notice that Christophe's pronoun had been changed. He was too focused on the agonized mess of tangled limbs that was in front of him.

"You're going to be using these arms well." The King told the Traveler. "You're going to be killing everyone with your bare hands. I hope you enjoy doing that, because it will be done soon, with this one."

The King pointed a hand toward Tweek, and the blond's eyes widened.

"I thought we were going to alter him?" The Doctor said quietly.

"We were." the King drawled. "But he's the last weak one left. I thought it could be a special occasion of some sort. We don't need him. Get rid of him. Now."

Tweek began to cry, muffled screams of protest not escaping his sewn mouth as The Executioners dragged him to the center of the room. The poor young boy stood in front of the six-armed giant, looking at the King pleadingly. The latter did nothing, just watched the two boys-or, the one boy and the monster-face each other, not quite knowing how to start. Christophe shook with anticipation, while Tweek did so in nervousness and fear. Craig felt a small twinge of something inside himself. It was something he couldn't put his finger on-he felt a bit shorter, a bit less mighty. He felt like he should be doing something, but he wasn't. That feeling was guilt.

Christophe slowly moved toward Tweek, his extra limbs not slowing him down much. They flexed and shook with all the excitement. Suddenly, they snapped toward Tweek, two of them grabbing his wrists and twisting them so an audible crack of the bones was heard. Craig felt his stomach drop at the sound. The King smiled happily, content at the fact that he was watching an execution be performed. Meanwhile, Damien's head was bowed, but Craig could see that he was smiling.

Tweek, in turn, screamed against his own sewn lips, and a small pop indicated one of the stitches had broken under the pressure. Thin black smoke clouded around the boy's head.

"What are you waiting for, Traveler? Keep going!" The King ordered.

Christophe nodded and took Tweek's legs next, breaking them like they were toothpicks. The little blond fell to the ground, wailing. Another stitch, gone. Tweek's mouth was about a quarter open by now. A bit of sound was escaping, making for a very distorted shriek.

Christophe knelt down and looked at Tweek quizzically.

"Sorry, son." he said, his voice a low monotone. "I have to."

Craig almost didn't catch that the Frenchman's thick accent had vanished. He looked over at the Executioners, knitting his brow.

"The King gets annoyed with improper dialect." Clyde explained. "So he alters their voice in surgery, too."

Craig nodded, not quite hearing or comprehending what Clyde had said. He was too mesmerized by the scene in front of him.

Christophe had pulled Tweek up by the neck, pinning him against the opposite wall. His fingers drummed against the boy's skin, not quite knowing what to do. Christophe gave Tweek's neck a short squeeze. Another scream was heard, a third stitch gone.

Now knowing how to execute the poor boy, Christophe squeezed his neck tighter with both his hands. Craig shuddered at the gurgling sound Tweek was making, and the black that spewed from his half-opened mouth. The Frenchman held on, increasing the pressure. Tweek's face grew red, then darkened to a purplish hue. His eyes were squeezed shut, his nostrils flaring frantically, trying to get air to his lungs, but alas, the crucial pipe that was needed to take the air where it needed to go was being crushed. His mouth ripped open, all of the remains of delicate needlework disappearing.

Tweek vomited black smoke.

It went everywhere, rising to the ceiling from the floor and spilling towards Craig. He breathed it in, liking the smell.

Christophe squeezed the boy's neck harder, until finally-

Crack.

It snapped.

Tweek fell to the ground, slumping against the wall, his eyes open and glazed over. Craig felt himself sink a little, but he didn't know why.

"Get rid of it." The King said, waving away the body. The Traveler nodded and dragged the body off down the hallway Craig was standing in, presumably to another room. Tweek's lifeless eyes seemed to stare at him as he was pulled away.

"Now!" The King clapped his hands suddenly, bringing the attention back to himself. "Doctor, take the tall one down to the Operating Room, and work your magic."

The Doctor nodded, walking over to Craig and taking his hand, pulling him away with a force that seemed impossible for a man so small. Craig stole one last look at the Executioners. Clyde smiled at him, and, for a moment, Craig thought he saw Kevin grinning, too. He looked at Damien before he turned the corner, and saw that the unstable boy was smiling a bit too wide at him, to the point where it looked like it physically pained him to do so.

The hallway had a light at the end of it, and Craig wondered-Was he dead already? Surely The Doctor's grip couldn't be hard enough to kill him, could it?

Then he laughed at his stupidity. No, it was just the operating room.

Little did Craig know, his body was thrashing and writhing, trying to get out of The Doctor's grasp. The young blond held onto him, though, calmly shoving him onto the operating table and strapping him down. Craig had already had worn leather dig into his wrists today. His body squirmed as the familiar feeling set in. But his mind was numb. He felt nothing as The Doctor took a saw and cut off both his arms. He thought nothing as the blades were hardwired to his brain. He saw nothing as blackness surrounded him.

His legs broke the buckles.

Little did Craig know, he had freed his bottom half. The Doctor, thinking that this was just a symptom of madness, unstrapped Craig, feeling that that would calm him down a bit.

Craig ran.

He ran fast.

His long legs and new "arms" carried him down the hallway like lightning, and back to the throne room, where the King sat, awaiting him.

"Ah! Look how it's so beauti-" The King was cut off as Craig went right out the door, leading to the main hall.

"You three." He snapped his fingers at Damien and the Executioners. "After him."

Damien ran like, well, mad, following the King's orders exactly. Craig was screaming at himself, telling himself not to leave the castle, that these arms were cool, that these were great, that this was a great opportunity, to work for a KING. But his physical being wouldn't listen. He continued to run until he felt his right leg get stuck to the floor.

Damien had grabbed his leg, holding it in a way that looked like he was groveling.

"Craig...stop!" He said, looking up at him with a huge grin. "Stop! You can't leave..."

Craig knew that. He wanted to stay.

"...Before you kill me."

Craig kept running, dragging Damien along with him, the boy's weight growing lighter and lighter. He felt the tension between his mentality and his physicality grow, more and more. He fled through the forest, ignoring everything around him.

The two girls were surprised to smell the same boy who had ran through their territory earlier. He had blinded them, of course, but their sense of smell overpowered their eyesight, anyway. He smelled of metal and mad blood.

Pity he ran away so fast.

Craig moved at an inhuman pace, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his brain at war with the rest of him, Damien holding onto him for dear life, smiling too wide.

"CRAIG!" He wailed. "KILL ME! CRAIG! YOU HAVE TO!"

Craig reached the beach. The fire there had died. The people around it were gone. He didn't notice. He didn't care. He ran into the reddened sea, rejoicing in all the blood. Damien fell under, not moving, hoping to drown himself in the substance. His head bobbed back up, however.

"PLEASE! JUST, SLICE ME! I CAN'T TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE, CRAIG! I HAVE TO SMILE! I HAVE TO SMILE!"

Craig looked back at Damien, wondering what was making all the racket. He was trying to enjoy himself, here. This guy was in his way.

An animalistic growl escaped his throat, and he raised the blade that was his right arm.

"PLEASE! CRAIG, HAVE MERCY! THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN WANTING FOR MY WHOLE LI-"

Craig silenced him.

Damien's body splashed into the sea, along with many others before it, Craig presumed. His head flew through the air, landing a few feet away. Craig curiously looked at it for a moment. On his face was a look of...peace. Serenity.

Craig didn't care.

He dove into the blood happily, letting it fill his lungs, fill his being, fill everything. Everything came before him, too.

Token looked at him, almost dead on the ground, then bowed his head in disappointment. The people around the fire were no longer people, just bodies at Damien's tea party. The Executioners were still moving, barely out of the castle, their stitches finally splitting and blackness surrounding them. The grass girls wandered aimlessly, hoping for another victim, of which there would be none. Jimmy, dead in the moat. The Traveler, a monstrosity that could not be tamed, killing everything. The Doctor, a loyal servant, but secretly just another pawn. The King, the mastermind behind all these horrors...

...And the one he never managed to save.

Tweek.

Tweek was going to just be thrown away.

They all stood before him, a wide array of expressions on their faces. The King spoke, after a long silence, the words in his mouth those that were in the heads of everyone else.

"Sanity is gone."

**The end?**

**I don't believe so.**

**I'm going to be writing a companion to this. It's completely optional to read, so if you hated this story, you don't have to read the other one I'm going to write ^u^**

**I just want to say thank you to all my readers. This is the best story I have ever written, and I appreciate all your support, through all the shittiness and everything. I LOVE YOU ALL OKAY NOW GIVE ME A HUG**

**Did you hug your computer? Huh?**

**Oh well. **

**PLEAAAASSSEEEE REVIEW AND STUFF! I WORKED SO FOOKING HARD ON THAT CHAPTER AND I WANT TO KNOW HOW I DID!**

**Okay, see you guys at the companion, if you want to, of course. BYE! :3**


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